


Galad of the Mountain

by CynYem09



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Character Death, Dry Humping, During The Hobbit, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spoilers for The Hobbit, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynYem09/pseuds/CynYem09
Summary: "I believe, we're all a little broken" my voice wavers "But feeling of being alone, makes it all worse".I say as I look into the beautiful Durin blue of his eyes.Into the heart I wish to call mine.
Relationships: Bofur/Nori (Tolkien), Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies), Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Maë govannen my dear readers, all-mighty Author speaking.
> 
> Alright, before getting on with the story, although a lot of you have probably already skipped this, I'd like to make a few things clear.
> 
> First, I have done a shit ton of research for this story so I can get it as accurate as possible, however, I am aware not everything is going to be, and in some things, I didn't get a clear version or there were too many.
> 
> So, as to not get too confused, there are some things that will be my own creation (as every fanfiction ever jaja).
> 
> But I'm just making these clear because I know there will be Tolkien hawks out there to get me jaja.
> 
> Second, there will be an obvious divergence from the original story, and yes some dead people will live but don't get your hopes up, 'cause this is still a war and in wars people die.
> 
> However, although basically all of the story will be based on the movies, there might (BIG might) be some things which I will include from the book, because of #research jaja. 
> 
> Third, I think I suck at Sindarin and Khûzdul, so I would 100% appreciate if you could help me with corrections, as well as in regards of grammar, slip ups, etc.
> 
> But please, be nice. ¬_¬
> 
> Finally, when the characters are speaking other languages (aka, Sindarin, Quenya, Khuzdul, etc) I shall include the translations right next to the phrases.
> 
> Because I am a fellow fanfic reader as well, and I know is a little annoying to have to scroll all the way down to know the freaking meaning.
> 
> Although I will not do it for certain phrases or words because of story telling purposes or other reasons :).
> 
> Ok that was long I am so sorry jaja.
> 
> Let's get on with the story.
> 
> Annon allen!
> 
> A "few" words yeah right...
> 
> WAIT WAIT!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Tolkien characters save for my own OC. All the credit goes to Peter Jackson and Tolkien.

_I was blank. I know not where I was._

_It was dark, cold and I was alone._

_And I was terrified. I remember running._

_Naked feet slamming against the floor as the snarling beast encloses._

_Whimpers escape my lips as I push my burning legs further._

_Then at the end of the darkness, a light shines in the familiar form of the most important woman in my life._

_"Nana!" I scream in distress. T_

_he woman only smiles gently "Elen-nin tithen, don't be afraid to follow the stars"._

_With a last twinkle she was gone, and so was the floor._

_From the darkness, a blazing flame emerges with desperate words._

_"DRAGON!"._

^v^v^v

_**T.A. 2,768. Mirkwood** _

A gasp rips out my throat as I shoot upward.

Panting as if I had run through the Mirkwood and back.

Closing my eyes I take a moment to remind myself of where I am.

The rough stone becomes soft sheets, the cold becomes warmer, taking a deep breath gone is the smell of smoke and death replaced with the wood burning from the hearth.

Blinking past the tears that rimmed my eyes I look up towards the balcony, noting the shy rays of the sun just beginning to light the sky.

I sigh, knowing sleep was going to be impossible now.

Swinging my long legs off the bed I touch the cold floor, sending shivers up my spine, and stretch my arms upward as I yawn.

For centuries my mornings have not seen much change.

From awakening just as the sun rises to donning my training gear.

However, my recently incessant dreams have had me waking before it has a chance to appear in the morning sky.

This, unfortunately, 'causes me to be certainly irritable at the training grounds, much to my brother's dismay.

But I do consider myself a morning elleth, I relish in the feeling of the forest waking up alongside me, which encourages my Ada and me to our morning walks.

Although, we don't see much of him anymore, the exceptions being breakfast and dinner.

Though if fate favors us, father will not be present at the training grounds.

Today, would not be one of that day. "Ooff!" I exclaim as I hit the dirt for the second time.

"What was your mistake?" Ada says condescendingly calm.

Being born to this family.

"I don't know" I groan as I sit up.

"Precisely" he adds sharply, standing close to us "You must be aware of your weaknesses at all times".

Says the ellon who can't seem to have enough Dorwinion.

My brother, Legolas, sends me a sympathetic look as he offers me a hand to stand, although I can feel the smugness radiating off him.

I narrow my eyes as I grip the sword tighter.

As Ada places himself back on the sidelines he yells "Again!".

By the time Legolas swings his twin blades I already had my sword blocking his attacks.

Both our father and Legolas favor two blades, but father prefers swords to daggers.

And though tithen lass _(little leaf)_ loves his knives, he is far more infatuated with the bow and arrow, and I dare say he must be the finest bowellon.

Which is not something I can say for myself.

Feren claims I am most proficient with the sword and the Mirkwood Polearm, however, we both know throwing daggers are my utmost efficient weapon.

I am able to use my multiple daggers in both close combat and distance, perhaps I cannot reach as far as an arrow but I have proved I can throw it as far as 100 feet.

Nevertheless, Ada has insisted that his children must learn every weapon possible as well as the art of hand-to-hand combat. Even if we were not the best with said weapon, he encourages knowledge.

Which includes the bow and arrow, much to my chagrin.

"Daur!" _(Stop)_ we hear our father shout just as we push away from each other's blows.

We look over to see Feren whisper to the Elvenking.

Father nods and walks over to us, his strides long and measured.

"Is everything alright Ada?" asks Legolas with a frown.

"Nothing you need to be concerned of ion nín," father says as he reaches us "However it would be much appreciated if you could go oversee the new recruits?".

The slight smile he gives my brother does not hide the polite dismissal, but Legolas has long since known when to hold his tongue. With a respectful nod to our father, he turns to leave but not before giving me a tight smile, which I hesitantly return.

"Itarille" he suddenly calls to me, causing me to look into his ancient eyes.

"Walk with me, my light" he extends an arm in invitation for me to lead the way.

A gentle smile stretches my face for I know where we're going.

As we walk side by side down the forest path, I keep my hands behind my back, for while I am his daughter, I must remain respectful to his position as our King. When I was an elfling I never cared about proprietary, I would hold his hand and hop onto his lap while he sat in his study.

The greatest thing is he never corrected me on it, in fact, I believe he secretly encouraged it.

Most days I find myself missing that gentle side of Ada, for he rarely shows it nowadays.

Though that might have to do with my Naneth.

"Something troubles you?" he states more than asks. I notice I must have frowned in my musings, but I expertly cover it, plastering a smile for him.

Like father, like daughter some might say.

"Not at all Ada" his eyes give me an unimpressed look, I sigh.

"You still have those dreams" he frowns in concern, I relent.

"Yes, but it's nothing, they're just dreams" I try to appease Ada.

The look he sends my way says he doesn't buy it "Never underestimate the power of dreams iel nín".

I look down "Yes Adar".

I'd like to say that we fell into a comfortable silence, however, it seems to only cover the Elvenking.

I worry my lip, though it seems he will not speak as of yet and I know better than to push for answers.

Instead, I decide to admire the scenery beginning to engulf us. I have walked this path for as long as I can remember, yet it never ceases to amaze me each time, for no matter how many times I look, there's always something I didn't see before.

The trees tall and green, with flowers blooming in their laps, pretty birds singing pretty songs, and the air warm and soothing. When I close my eyes I can listen to the melody of the forest drifting through the wind, flowing into my hröa (body), and feeling it in my fëa, which in turn, tunes along with the forest.

It is in moments like this when I stop and let myself become one with the woodland, my feet become the roots and my hair flutters like silver leaves, and whispers of contentment reach my pointed ears.

Though before I can delve further into the power of the realm, the spell cast upon me breaks with Ada's words.

"I am leaving for Erebor in the morning" he begins, not really informing me as I already knew this.

"Yes?".

"It should not be a challenging trip, there is few I must do" he continues to explain as he comes to halt and turns to me.

"I want you to accompany me". My heart stutters then pounds, my eyes widen and my mouth drops.

"Me? You want me to come?" I can't help but confirm I did not hear wrong.

"Yes," he says simply.

"But why?".

"Must there be a reason for why the Princess of Mirkwood accompanies her King?".

"No, but..." he's never brought me before, the farthest I have been from home has been the borders of the kingdom, and that's become rare for father prefers we stay near.

"Excellent, we leave at dawn" he replies curtly before turning to leave.

"Ada" he slightly turns to acknowledge me.

The question settles in my tongue then but doesn't leave my lips, for I sense that perhaps it's better not to question his orders.

So I settle with a head bow and "Hannon le, Adar" _(Thank you, Father)_.

He inclines his own head before his gone.

When I am certain he's out of earshot I squeal in an unladylike manner as I jump on my feet, throwing my fist up in the air in victory. Unfortunately, it is in this state that a quite unimpressed advisor to the King and my governor finds me in.

"I do believe I had once taught you composure, little bird" Hérion's flat tone freezes me in place, I press my lips together.

"And I also recall having told our King you were ready for the outside world, I implore you not to let me be mistaken".

I quickly compose myself and turn to find the chestnut brown haired ellon looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

Though his face is stern, I see a teensy bit of amusement threatening to break his facade.

"Hérion" I greet, smiling innocently.

"Híril nín" _(My Lady)_ he returns with a nod.

"I suppose I must thank you".

"Whatever for?" he replies.

"I believe it was your statement which encouraged my father to invite to Erebor?".

His slight smirk does not go unnoticed.

"However" he speaks, his smirk now full-on "After the display, I just saw, I now have my regrets".

I huff out a laugh, placing a hand over my chest in mocking "I am hurt".

He chuckles as he approaches me, a calloused hand raising to my shoulder.

His face stretches to a gentle smile "I am confident you'll do well, Brethil nín" _(My Princess)_.

I smile gratefully "Annon allen, mellon nín" _(I give thanks to you, my friend)._

^v^v^v

Since the news of my departure had been in such short notice I had immediately bid Hérion farewell to put in order my affairs.

And by affairs I mean of course packing the bare necessities.

And by bare necessities, I don't just mean my dresses and undergarments.

A knock on the door startles me before I allow entrance to whoever was at the door.

"Neth-nín" _(my sister)_ Legolas greets warmly as he enters my slightly untidy room.

"Hanar-nín" _(my brother)_ I nod "What brings you here?".

He circles the room "I heard you were leaving with Adar for Erebor".

I smile sheepishly "I am".

"I am happy for you, it is not every day Ada allows us to leave the kingdom" he mutters the last sentence, coming to stand close to me.

"It is getting dangerous out there, Celairiel" I can tell the seriousness of the conversation as he uses my Chosen name, looking deep into my eyes with equally stormy blue ones, concern tinging them grey.

"I know," I reassure, placing a hand on his shoulder "do not fret, I can take care of myself".

"I know you can," he reaches behind him "That's why I'd like to give you this".

A gasp escapes my lips at what Legolas presents to me. A beautiful silver knife slightly longer than my forearm shines in the light of the candles.

"Oh Legolas" I breath in awe.

Taking it I test the balance and weight, observing the weapon was one whole piece.

Fortunately is not a double-bladed knife, so I could comfortably rest it over my arm.

Looking to my brother I see a revering expression painting his face "I had planned to give it to you on your Name-day, though I thought perhaps, the situation calls for it".

I beam at him "It is beautiful Hanar-nín, thank you".

I proceed to throw my arms around his neck, to which he immediately returns.

Burying his face in my hair he mumbles "Promise me you'll be careful".

I hold him tighter "Always".

We stayed in our embrace for as long as we could before he had to depart, for I had to finish my packing.

With a final kiss over my forehead, he left me to myself.

I understand his concern over my well being, for we have never been truly apart since we were born.

And I must admit I am both excited and terrified of going on this small journey.

On one hand, I have never left my home, and I don't truly know the world outside my books and maps. On the other, ever since I was an elfling I wanted to see everything beyond the Woodland Realm.

Though it is just a small trip and not a personal one at that, I am ecstatic to see beyond the great trees of my home.

I confess I'll miss my singing trees terribly, but there is so much more out there, and I want to see it, feel it and smell it if I can help myself.

As I finish settling everything, I head out the balcony, the cool air raising goosebumps over my exposed skin, and look over the horizon. In the distance, my elf eyes perceive a single solitary peak.

Watching over it, my curiosity alights ten-fold and I can't help asking myself. ' _What will I find deep in the darkness of the stone-carved kingdom of Erebor?'_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers! I hope you are enjoying it so far, even though I keep making changes jaja.
> 
> Just a quick thing I did not mention for I literally just decided I would do this, at 3:00 am in the morning jaja.
> 
> I shall be alternating in years probably per chapter for backstories, you will notice the year and place we are in on the top right corner, if you haven't figured already :).
> 
> Anyway, continue enjoying it.
> 
> Love you all (even if I don't know you jaja) and have a nice day/night.
> 
> Ta-ta!

**_ T.A. 2,941. Mirkwood _ **

The shadows drowned the changing leaves of the oncoming autumn, the songs of the trees became somber and the air polluted with the scent decay.

The bark is cold to the touch, pressing my forehead to it, I feel more than hear the wails of pain and sadness.

"I'm sorry" I sigh.

I'm unsure why I ask for forgiveness, the fact that I can't share in their pain? That I wish I could be powerful enough to cure my forest?

Or that I seem incapable to keep my promises.

My hand curls around the bark and my shoulders shake, though my tears remain unshed.

If it wasn't for my wood giants, I would've succumbed to my sorrow and now in their most desperate moment, I am helpless.

As if sensing my distress, the wood moans and a few leaves fall, as much of an embrace as it could be.

Nevertheless, it elicits a grateful smile.

Grounding myself, I move away and scan the surroundings.

Fortunately, none of my companions had been looking my way.

I along with a company of elves had been assigned to find as many nests and dispose of them and had been at it for weeks.

The foul creatures were getting bolder, coming closer and closer to the halls.

Fortunately, there had been no casualties, yet.

This is as optimistic as I can manage nowadays.

I slice through the air with my dagger as a gentle thud resonates to my right.

Instead of meeting the dark eyes of danger, I meet my reflected stormy gaze.

"Easy does it," Legolas says, raising his hands non-threateningly.

I release the breath I held tight on my chest, not realizing the same went for the rest of the group until they lowered their bows.

"Itarille".

"Legolas" I echo his warning tone mockingly.

"A second too late and you would be dead," he says flatly.

"Did you find it?" I ask curtly.

He closes his eyes in frustration "No".

I hum, sheathing my blade.

Tauriel, Captain of the Guard, approaches him.

I'm not particularly close with the young elleth, but I've seen she is kind and curious as well as fierce and smart, though sometimes I fear she may get cocky.

My Hanar however, I've noticed his interest when they met, I can't be sure what kind for he doesn't speak to me about such intimate matters.

Or about anything at all for that matter, not anymore.

Safe perhaps a few topics.

As they converse, I sense a strange disturbance in the ambient.

The temperate climate turns colder, shadows enclose sucking the oxygen out, and an eerie silence stills my movements.

Even the blowing leaves are hushed.

"Legolas" it was worse when I discovered there was no need to raise my voice.

"I know" he walked up to me "What do you hear?".

It was no secret I was much more intuned with the wild than most, and truly, it has saved our lives more often than not.

Tilting my head I strain my hearing for the, unfortunately familiar, disgusting crackling of long, thin legs, snapping branches, and rough tendrils of web.

There was that, perhaps a 100 kilometers out, but there was something else.

Images sprung to my mind at time with the sounds.

Heavy feet, the clanking of armor, rough whispers, then silent gasps.

The armor would've to lead me to believe a company of men were passing by, however the footfalls were much too heavy for them.

Snapping open my eyelids, I silently lead the charge.

^v^v^v

Drawing the last breaths of my enemies has become routine.

The cringing sight of black masses with tiny hollow beads and spindly legs, however, I can never become accustomed to.

Fear crawls beneath my skin in goosebumps, trying and failing to claw it's way out.

Until I lay eyes on familiar midnight locks flying through the air.

Training in keeping objectiveness during a fight immediately thrown out the window as I dash through the chaos towards _my meleth._

Whom apparently has a thing for 'sticky situations'.

The spider currently overpowering him being the case and point.

A split second later I found myself tree running, bouncing off the branch in a somersault landing perfectly over the beast, my curved dagger deeply ingrained in its hairy skin.

Though it had ceased its movements, I sliced down for good measure, dark blood spraying, and the now-familiar stench of death already rising.

A strained groan breaks through my murder haze.

Instantly I drop to the muddy floor, grabbing the dwarf from under its shoulders and pulling.

Thorin doesn't immediately register my presence until he's halfway off the ground, looking up my stretched gloved hand.

At first, I would've thought to see a grin playing on his lips, perhaps a predatory glint in the sea of his eyes or loving awe as he pulls me down with him.

Alas, that is but in the past.

Instead, his features darken in loathing, the grin is replaced by the curling lip, Durin blue flashing with cold embers.

I would've been quite aroused by it, had I not been me at the sharp end of the sword.

Now, I only feel my heart squeeze woefully. 

Even more so when he recoils away from my touch, standing to his full height, now at my chin.

"Are yo-?"

"Don't you deign speak to me" he sneers, cutting me off.

I clench my jaw, not taken aback by the aggressiveness.

Silence weighs heavy over my shoulders, the hushness around us adding to it.

Just as I'm about to break it, Legolas cuts right through "Itarille".

"I'll be right there" I answer, not addressing him directly.

Exhaling I step into his space, about to place my hand on his shoulder.

He shakes away "I don't need an escort".

Ironic, for I still round him up along with his companions.

As the guard inspects every crack and crevice for their weapons, I turn my attention to their identities.

The first familiar faces I discern take form of the wise, old sight of Balin and the ever scowling Dwalin.

The rough but kind Gloin as well as his healer of brother Oin.

The pickpocketer of Nori and his fretting well-groomed older sibling Dori, who stands close to a younger dwarf I can only assume to be Ori, the smallest of the three Ri's.

Nostalgia rains over my mind as fond memories arise. 

Though I cannot enjoy the moment for Legolas barks the order to bring them in.

One last look around and I am off as the tail of the caravan, biting my lip as I catch a look at the back of whom I once called mine.

^v^v^v

**_ T.A. 2,941. Inside the Halls of Thranduil _ **

I once called the halls of the Elvenking home.

So bright, warm, and joyous I wished to never leave.

I fear I may have prayed too hard.

The brilliance never left, but the warmth and happiness fled.

We rarely go beyond our borders, and if we do it is not for long.

I can barely recognize the halls, even if to the naked eye they appear unchanged, I see nothing but cold unforgiving stone trapping me inside.

And as we re-enter our kingdom, the carved wooden doors closing after us, I can't help the sharp thorns despair poking at my fëa.

I've now exchanged places with Legolas at the front as we head deep inside the realm, towards a single platform with pillars hewn upwards weaving into the ceiling and raised above the ground sat the Elvenking on his throne of sculpted wood, antlers shooting outwards giving him the shade of intimidation and power.

The king himself, with his spiny crown of bronze leaves and red berries, was menacing alone, with old calculating eyes surveying his captures.

Long ago, I would've been terrified at the sight of said ellon, swearing he could see through my very being.

Instead, I meet his chilling gaze with a mirrored expression, however more subdued for no matter how much I authority I muster, it would not be wise to question his own.

"So much for the benevolence of Thranduil Lord of the Elves" growls Dwalin "Is this how you greet travelers to your lands?".

A phantom smirk plays on his lips "Only the ones who annoy me,"

"A company of thirteen dwarves traveling so far East?" Thranduil mocks "I wonder, where does your journey end".

"We are simply heading to see our kin from the Iron Hills" the always diplomatic Balin intervenes.

The king doesn't respond, instead, waves his hand and the guard grabs the dwarves, who protest in growls and threats, to take them down into the dungeons.

"Not him" he suddenly orders as I go to grab onto Thorin "Keep him here".

I press my lips into a thin line, dread a heavyweight in my belly.

Once the echoes of the rest are lost in the distance, does Adar descends from his throne.

"Remove the chains" as soon as he commands it, the chains already clanged over the stone floor.

He then turns to me "Leave us".

I dip slightly in a bow as I go, but not before catching the sight of the deep Mirrormeres that had once twinkled only for me, hollowed with the shovels of hate.

I look away, eyesight blurring, and my lip trembling, though I clench my fist hard in an effort to keep from unleashing my tears.

As I look side-ways towards the throne I see father momentarily change his focus from my retreating back to his guest, and I use the opportunity to quickly conceal myself in the shadows.

In the years of training under Feren, I have learned to become a shadow, breathless and slick, disappearing when the light is obscured and visibly invisible.

Though perhaps against the seasoned eyes of a war veteran I may as well be openly eavesdropping.

Nevertheless, I am not an elfling listening in on Adar's meetings any longer.

At first, it is mostly a one-sided conversation where he implies an attempted burglary upon a certain mountain, where I would love to hope the dwarf lord does not intend to reclaim.

He is met with silence, up until he offers his 'help'.

Even I can feel the constant collusive tone he is taking.

And apparently, so does Thorin as he answers "I am listening".

"I will let you go," wait for it "if you but return what is mine".

I grit my teeth as I am reminded of those damned cold gems that have brought nothing but misery to us.

The White Gems of Lasgalen, heirlooms passed on to Thranduil from my grandmother whom I never got to meet.

White gems strung upon silver, fashioned as a gift for the elleth he loved and never got to wear.

My temperament rises as I realize the ellon I call _'Ada'_ still seems too fond of those cursed gems.

"A favor for a favor" Thorin resolves.

"You have my word" he feigns assurance _"One king to another"._

When he draws that card, for a moment I thought the dwarven king might actually agree, but I am greatly mistaken apparently.

"I would not trust Thranduil" he mocks "The great king to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us!".

He increases volume with each enunciation, screaming at the caves "You! Who lack all honor!".

"I've seen how you treat your friends, your family!" what he proclaims next, knocks all air from me.

"We came to you once starving, homeless, seeking your help! But you turned your back" he growls.

"You turned away from the suffering of my people, and the inferno that destroyed us!".

My hand flies to my mouth as the Khuzdul phrase leaves his lips, and finally, salty waterfalls down my cheeks.

I do not know what it is said next for the ellon has taken a hushed timbre, except to send Thorin down with his kin.

Silence reigns once more, except for my loud thoughts as I scowl at the words of the king.

"I would've hoped I taught you better than to listen in to private conversations, iel nín".

"You lied!" I growled, not caring for my tone, as I come out of my hiding spot.

"I did not" he lounges down on his throne when I approach the stairs "They could not be helped".

"Or you could not look past your own resentment".

He glares "Be careful of your words Itarille, I will not tolerate insolence".

"As insolent as it may be, it does not take the truth from my words" I sneer, staring right at his glacial frown.

A charged blanket of bitterness covers the atmosphere as none of us backs down, bitterly refreshing my memory of every time I seem to cut the leash off my rage.

And this would be a time I regretted it.

He walks down once more from his self-implemented pedestal, coming to me.

Even while Thranduil towers over me I do not allow myself to back down, and I will myself to stay unmoving as he bends.

"You think him to be fond of you," he says into my ear "An _elf_?".

Despite myself, my lip trembles, and I loathe knowing he sees it.

"That love which you desperately hold on to, it's not real" as he retreats, I bite my lip and refuse to shed my tears.

Though I slump with defeat.

"It will never be real, my light" his endearment and fatherly tone causes my skin to crawl.

Though instead of blowing off into profanities, calling him all sorts of colorful names, I retreat with as much dignity as one can when reduced to nothing.

And by whom is supposed to love you the most.

I snort doubtfully.

I've lived in the childish naiveness that your parents would never dare to willingly hurt their children for most of my life.

Until it was bitterly broken by the Elvenking himself.

^v^v^v

Sunsets in Mirkwood are beautiful, the dark bronze trees swallow the sun, darkening the sky and giving way to the blinking stars.

It is a soothing sight when carrying a heavy heart.

Heavy with guilt and resentment.

In the solitude of my quarters, I broke down in silent sobs, salty waterfalls trekking down the high planes of my cheek, curling up my legs to make myself as small as I felt.

It is in moments like this where I wonder why am I here?

I am not the heir to the throne, I am not Captain of the Guard nor am I even adviser to the King.

Princess is my title, it is a duty and yet I do nothing.

I am but another jewel on the Kings' collection.

 _'You can become anyone you desire, not what others define you to be'_ the phantom whisper of my Lirimaer float through my ears.

At once, I stand, rubbing the wetness of my face and sniffle.

I look beyond the walls to the balcony, through the forest and off to the distance.

Perceiving the familiar sharp silhouette vaguely outlined by the retreating rays of sunlight, memories of times past tickle my mind.

Stepping out into the ever-freezing breeze, I allow the nostalgia to rain over me peering into the droplets of memory, watching an era where I genuinely thought I could have a happily ever after.


	3. Chapter 3

**_ T.A. 2,768. Mirkwood _ **

A respectable Princess rides gracefully on her mount.

Weariness is unseen on her face, used to the long rides away from home.

She does not wiggle in place, in hopes to be more comfortable, for she is used to sitting on the saddle for hours at a time.

Does not get bored of the silence surrounding her company, as it is evident she does not need to speak.

How I would love to meet her.

I've wanted to travel for as long as I've lived, and I was aware it was not a stroll in the forest.

But for Eru, I wish I had been forewarned it would be this _tedious_.

And the scorching sun as we exit the woods beating on our backs is certainly not welcome.

Irritation settled over my face, curving my lips, and pinching my brows.

I readjust the hood over my face.

I knew I was failing in maintaining a facade of composure, however, for a certain ellon couldn't help but voice his opinion.

"You know, for a moment I was concerned we would've to be fussing over a Princess running off in her excitement".

"Shove it Feren" I sneer without facing the probable sly smile of my current escort.

"Are you really that irked about meeting dwarven royalty?".

I quirk an eyebrow "Why should I be?".

"They're dwarves?" he states like it's obvious.

I turn to him, silently begging for clarification.

"They're ill-mannered, grumpy, dirty and greedy".

"Right" I reply absently.

I've never truly met a dwarrow, I may have been schooled in their history, appearance, and what is known of their customs.

Nevertheless, I figure actually meeting the tiny people shall teach me differently, for no matter how objective our scrolls and books may be, my teachers were not.

Most wood-elves do not take too kindly to outsiders, yet are still proper.

Although, when it comes to dwarrows, most are not too fond of treating with them.

We do not wish ill-will upon them, but it doesn't mean we would necessarily call them "friends".

And I have not been the exception of the, however unintentional, xenophobia drilled upon us since childhood by our father and those close around us.

Except for my Naneth.

She was kind to everyone, regardless of race, and she looked upon dwarrows as a commander would to their battalions as she called them the greatest warriors in Middle Earth and held them in high regard.

And she encouraged this mindset upon her children often, upon which I am determined to uphold.

Even if I had to go up against Ada, I would not dream of letting my Nana down.

^v^v^v

** _T.A. 2,768.Gates of Erebor_ **

Dale gave a loud welcome as soon as the King of Mirkwood was in sight.

And the people gathered around the caravan of stoic looking elves with cheers and flowers.

The warmth of the crowd was enough to settle my wearied self, and tried to smile at whomever I could catch eyesight with.

Though crumbling from age, the white buildings of the tiny city were quite pleasing to the eye, especially when there's men and dwarven architecture combined.

But nothing could prepare me for the sight as we came out the other side.

Air was knocked out my lungs as I gazed up at the dwarven Kingdom of Erebor.

The golden glow of the setting sun covered the stone sentinels guarding the front gates, the mountain reached so high into the heavens one could swear pierced the heavens, it's stone skin ridged like wrinkles and seemed to loom over the subjects lying underneath.

Finally looking at the distant peak up close, I can't help but compare it with home.

While the elven halls of Thranduil are composed of smooth arcs and warm colors, the dwarves halls seem geometric, cold, and monotone.

The stark difference between elves and dwarrows it's evident even in the architecture.

"King Thranduil" a low adverb voice brings me out of my thoughts.

I turn, noticing the small squadron slowly approaching us.

I watch the dwarrows in fascination, I expected them to be... smaller.

I shake my head, glad that my mind to mouth filter has not betrayed me this time.

Feeling slightly at a loss, I look over at my bodyguard, meeting with air instead of his warm gaze.

A throat clears right below me, and right then I find the ellon in question, smiling smugly.

"Looking for someone, my Lady?" he extends his hand cordially, his tone an exaggeration of politeness.

My eyes meet the back of my head as I accept his hand, sliding off my horse.

"Stay close to me" I mutter under my breath, low enough for no one to hear but him.

"I'm sure you'll be fine, Princess" he chuckles.

Before I can retort a dwarves soldier comes and stands before us, expectantly.

I dip my head in acknowledgment, a tad unsure.

The dwarrow barley moves, let alone return the gesture.

This time I furrow my brow, wondering if I have made an offense of the sort.

Instead, I'm brought up short as out of the corner of my eye I watch Feren reach for the reins of our horses, handing them over.

I stifle the urge to facepalm at my own stupidity.

As our horses are led away I perceive the distinctive puff of air of soft laughing.

I muster my best Princess glare at my supposed escort, who seems to be having a hard time keeping a straight face if the trembling edges of his lips is anything to go by.

Instead of lashing out, I hold my head high, striding forward while 'accidentally' stepping over his toes with the heel of my boot.

To his credit, he manages not to make a sound, safe for the sharp inhale of pain.

At the front, where the King's elk is lead to what I assume would be the stables, I find him patiently waiting for the rest of his guard, alongside a sturdy dwarrow, a grave expression clouding his bearded face.

Peering closer at him, I observe tattoos over his head, covered by a Mohawk of dark hair, which reaches down past his muscled shoulders.

"Iel nín" I look away before I can further examine the male beside Ada.

He briefly glances at the dwarrow before leaning to whisper.

"Stay beside me, and do not stray," he said, though I notice the edge of warning in his voice, so I can't help but nod.

He almost pulls away before adding "And allow me to do the talking".

I manage to keep from sighing exasperatedly.

"Yes, Ada" I sigh.

Soon enough, once the guards are situated, the dwarrow leads us into the dwarven kingdom.

^v^v^v

**_T.A. 2,768. Dwarven Kingdom of Erebor_ **

The Elvenking's' halls are vast and cavernous, bubbles of light chase away the dark, patterns of forest are mended into the walls, the woods infiltrate through the floors, trapping the columns with their roots and branches, making it seem one is on the outside.

They are warm in the winter and cool in the summer.

And like of the forest surrounding, is resilient and serene.

One can truly see the ethereal beauty of elves woven in.

I have never tired of the sights even if I have seen them all.

I thought nothing could surprise me by now.

How mistaken I was.

The halls of the King Under the Mountain were massive and spacious, darkness was present though not menacingly so, intricate designs and tapestries carved into walls, sounds of hammers creating the most respected craftsmanship on Middle Earth soothing even against elven ears, and what I mistakenly thought to be cold was in fact mildly hot, yet not quite reaching the unbearable heat of summer.

The hardened mountain a stronghold against the outside world, and yet does not reject it, more like chose to become rooted to the earth.

It was not ethereal, but there was an attractiveness to the engraved stone.

A magnificence which even the elven kingdom cannot compare.

The hole grandeur of Erebor leaves me shamelessly gaping, purposely ignoring the snickering of Feren behind me.

I shall deal with him at a later time.

Though I was amazed at my surroundings, I had enough mind to look ahead to stop choreographically in time with my kin.

I do not look directly ahead per se, however, I can see from the edge of the hood that there are other sets of feet beside the throne.

"Elvenking Thranduil" a powerful old voice bounces off the walls.

"Your Majesty" Ada echoes as we all nod in tandem.

"I trust the journey went untroubled?" King Thror asks though I suspect out of politeness.

"Indeed" I can't see my fathers' face, but those who know the King of the Woodland Realm close can hear the nonchalance in his voice "May I introduce my daughter, Princess Itarille".

Though I am startled by the impromptu introduction, I gracefully step beside my father and remove my hood, baring my pale face and platinum strands to the golden light of the torches.

Finally able to fully appreciate the vicinity of the room, I look into the faces of those in front of me.

The lagoon eyes of King Thror seem to almost study me, not with judgment mind you but with curiosity and wariness, his presence might and demanding.

I meet them mustering a small smile to him.

He hums but I do not linger on him as I look at his right.

A slightly younger dwarrow stands with the pride meeting my gaze, his slightly greying hair and one eye left him with a forever stern expression and I am left to assume this must be his son, Thrain.

Gliding to the left I meet a pair of sapphires and I forget to breathe.

The windows which peer into mine look just as startled as I, time suddenly slowed down and there was only him and I.

A damp break in my heart and unexplainable joy fills my fäe, an unseen force draws me close to his presence, the ice of my eyes melt into the blue of his sea and I can suddenly breathe.

At the moment the only clear thought in my head was ' _To whom do those eyes belong to?'._

"Erebor welcomes you, Princess" the rough voice of the King breaks through the fog of strange sensations.

I blink and I find nothing but kingly regalia in the lagoons of the Mountain King.

Brushing off the momentary stupor I find myself in, I thank him.

"Now Thranduil, I feel you have not come for a simple visit" King Thror smirks a tad "Out with it".

Father smiles conspirationally "I may require your expertise, my lord".

Admittedly, it is rather odd to hear Ada call anyone but himself in the mirror my lord.

"Indeed?" he quirks a bushy brow "Then perhaps we should move to more private rooms".

My King dips his head "Lead the way".

"But perhaps" the old dwarrow tilts his head as he focuses on me "our Ladyship would prefer to be shown the kingdom?".

I blink in surprise "Pardon?"

An amused smile wrinkles his ancient face, causing his eyes to twinkle "I doubt a curious she-elf such as yourself would enjoy listening to a pair of old lords speaking politics".

Though one could physically feel Ada bristle at the old comment, I couldn't help the chuckle escaping my lips.

"I would love to, your Grace" I answer.

"Excellent, my grandson shall accompany you" he announces as he stands to his full height, which is not much.

"Thorin" he calls to the very dwarrow to the right, my breathing hitches "If you please".

"Yes, grandfather" a rough baritone rings through my ears and shivers run along my spine.

Father says something but I hear sound no more, for I am captivated by the one called Thorin, with his pair of sapphires and gentle gaze.

The rest of the company disperses until only three of us remain.

For a moment I had almost forgotten Ferens' presence if it hadn't been for him clearing his throat.

"Please Feren, locate my rooms" I order breathily without looking at him "I'll be fine".

Apparently, this he didn't quite expect.

"But Prince-" he began to protest before I cut him off with a side-glare.

He snaps his mouth audibly before he stands straight and nods.

With a final bow, he leaves.

I then turn to look at the slightly nervous dwarrow standing a foot ahead of me.

To his credit, he's concealing it well, safe for the clenching of his jaw and fingers fidgeting with the loose string of his sleeve.

"Thorin, is it?" I ask amiably.

He appeared to be brought out of a daydream for his shoulders jump and he tenses.

I press my lips together in an effort to respect his dignity.

He clears his throat "Yes, my Lady".

"Please" I rip my hand through the air "Itarille".

"Is that wise, my Lady?" he inquires, still unsure of himself.

A fond smile finds it's way up my cheeks "Whoever said I was wise?".

At that, he looks up with a timid smile, and once again I am trapped in his gaze.

This time, however, I take a moment to actually look at him.

He is young, that much is apparent, with his midnight hair barely past his broad shoulders and the agate bead hanging from the braid near his ear, his head perfectly placed to rest my chin over without hunching.

Though not too young as his beard is long, braided and a silver bead attached at the end.

From appearance alone, I would say he is a teen.

To an elf, he is barely more than a child.

Innocent and naive to the cruelty of the world.

Yet when I caught his eyes, I can see the wisdom beyond his years.

His presence is neither demanding nor stern, but rather... inviting and open.

Instead of caution, he exudes a child-like curiosity, honest and unafraid.

I am suddenly more than intrigued by the grandson to the king.

_Who exactly is this dwarrow?_

"Shall we m' lady?" his rich voice breaks through my musings.

Composing myself I extend my hand in invitation "Lead the way, Master Dwarrow".

He blinks at the term, but almost immediately grins "Thorin". 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! I hope you're all enjoying the story so far.
> 
> I've been uploading two days in a row at the moment as I've already written these chapters and did proofreading before posting.
> 
> I will upload maybe once a week or two, it will depend on many factors, and if there's ever a slight delay I'll let you know.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me, I hope you'll love the story :). Kudos!


	4. Chapter 4

**_ T.A. 2,941. Inside the Halls of Thranduil _ **

As night comes upon us, glimmering bubbles of light dot the blackness around the rising silver smile shining down, creating darker duplications along the forest floor.

If I didn't have a mission in mind, I'd be happily enjoying the transition from sun to moon, instead, I find myself on the way down the darkest crevices of this kingdom.

It has become no secret that a dwarven company is now held captive in our dungeons, yet only those like myself know the purpose of keeping them behind the cell doors.

And also those like myself are free to roam as they please, with few exceptions.

Such is the fact, that when I pass by, the guards do not bother don't look twice in my direction.

Gliding through the dungeon I peer into each cell in search of known faces, though fate is seemingly with me as it is not long when I find a familiar dark mane, now lined with silver.

I hesitate at first, steeling my heart for a probable repetition of the forest encounter.

In my inhale I step close enough to be in line of sight, looking at the defeated poise of Thorin Oakenshield.

"Curious, I thought I'd arrive to hear the banging of fists against the bars" I lightly jest, though it is not welcome.

The only evidence he even heard me were the suddenly stiffened shoulders.

Through a strange knot in my throat, I manage "You look well".

Silence.

"I trust the guards were not too harsh?" I try, the concern is genuine, however.

No acknowledgment whatsoever.

"Are you going to ignore me forever Thorin?" I softly ask, to which the response is turning his back to me.

I sigh exasperated, yet strangely fond "Isn't a tad childish to give me the cold shoulder?".

Still silent.

"Thorin?" I close in until my nose is nearly touching the metal " _Melamin-_ ".

"Don't" he growls, cutting me off "Don't you ever call me that again".

The unmistakable disgust he exudes my heart clenches.

"You loved it when I called you that" I murmur.

At that he stands, slowly rotating towards me, his bearded face darkened.

"You mean when I was a naive dwarfling?" he approaches, then clenches his thick hands around the bars so tightly I'm almost afraid they'll break "You mean a time when I thought that maybe elves and dwarves were not too different?".

I press my lips together, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.

"No retort, _Princess?"_ he mocks.

"I'm sorry, I truly am-" I finally manage to make my mouth work, only for him to say.

"You are a fool if you believe I will ever forgive you" he hisses, pushing off the cell door.

A heavyweight drops over my shoulders as the Elvenking's words ring at the back of my mind.

The atmosphere becomes thick I could swim in it if it wasn't suffocating.

Unwillingly, my legs guide me down to the stone steps beside the cell, bringing my chin to rest upon my knees.

I know not how much time passed before I had the courage to speak up.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, but can you fault a girl for aching to see her beloved?" I say, the walls carrying my whisper away.

"Her beloved?" he laughs humorlessly, he sees into my eyes "Tell me, _Princess,_ is it a custom for elves to leave their _beloved_ to starve?".

"That's not fair" I argue.

"But it is to turn your back against who you called allies?".

I glare, but not heatedly so "I would never turn my back on you".

"Yet you did" he sneers.

I bite my lip, my eyesight blurs and my shoulders shake.

"Get out of my sight" he pointedly stares at the wall.

I sniffle but nod nonetheless.

When I come to stand I can't help having one more glance at his face.

One would think the few wrinkles and scowl of his lips would've long sent me on my way, yet that is not the case.

If anything, I am much more in love with him than I've ever been.

As I turn to leave, I mutter only for his ears _"You're so brave and silent, everyone forgets you are suffering"._

I do not stay for a response.

^v^v^v

Dinner is a nice moment for a family gathering, where everyone sits in a round table, discussing their day, sharing in banter and light jest. Sometimes end in a food fight between siblings, much to the chagrin of the parents yet they secretly share in the mirth, ending the night with kisses to the forehead and pillow fights.

I have lived these moments once.

Alas, they are now but a distant longing I have had to mourn for in the comfort of my pillow.

The food is mouth-watering, yet under the awkward silence of the room, I might as well be eating plain mushrooms.

I have not looked away from my plate, safe to begrudgingly greet my dinner companions.

"I hope the meal is to your liking" father inquires when I keep playing with my food.

"Aradans' cooking is always a delight" I flash a quick smile, stabbing and slicing with slightly more force than necessary the half-raw medallion.

"Indeed, yet I have not seen you take a single bite".

I finally look up to see him calmly sipping from his goblet. 

I bite the inside of my cheek, rising my own goblet to my lips "I'm not too hungry".

He hums.

"I see the visit to the dungeons proofed to be fruitful" he comments, pouring himself more wine.

I pause mid-sip and slowly lowered the cup, glaring at the wall.

"I tried to warn you Itarille nevertheless you insist on learning the hard way" he scolds as if I was an elfling who wanted to see if the fire will burn me.

I turn to look at Legolas, who avoids my eye, and my vision narrows.

"You had me followed" I state more than ask.

When Thranduil, at last, deigns to acknowledge me, he does it with an air of nonchalance "You do not need to concern yourself how I go about protecting you Itarille".

"Protecting me?" I hiss through my teeth "Or controlling me".

"I do not control you my light, you have plenty of freedom".

"Do I?" I glower down at my plate "Because it certainly does not feel like it".

"Keep up the tone and I will take the liberty of taking yours away" though he says it airily, the tight grip around his goblet betrays his rising temper.

And I could not care any less.

"Be my guest _Ada,_ it's not like there's much to take" I scorn what used to be an endearment, and he does not take kindly to it.

"Do not test me Itarille" he snarls.

"Sister please" Legolas tries diffusing my anger with pleading eyes, but I pay no heed.

"When will you ever realize the more you squeeze the more it'll slip through your fingers?" I suddenly stand, feeling bolder than ever.

"Itarille..." Legolas warns, however, the venom is already dripping down my lips.

"No! Have you become so blinded by fear you cannot let go of our throats?!".

His face remains passive, yet his fingers clench the chalice hard enough you could hear the crystal crackling from the sheer strength.

"You wear a crown upon your head, but I will never call you my king" that was the drop that filled the glass.

Thranduil abruptly stands, darkness seeping from his very pores and as his icy windows look into mine, I realize the extent of my transgression.

Though my hands begin to tremble, I clench them into fists refusing to back down, meeting his blizzard with my thunderstorm.

"Were you not my daughter I would've flung you in the dungeons before you could scream" he emphasizes his sentence with repressed rage.

His words wound around my heart piercing it with their thorns and my vision veils "Are you that much of a coward you would throw me aside so easily?".

He doesn't respond, and rightfully so.

"Of course you would" I scoff "How could you not? You would rather choose cold precious stones over flesh and blood".

His presence looms over me, but just as suddenly he retreats, speaking through gritted teeth "Go to your room Itarille before you force my hand any longer".

" _Amin delotha lle_ " I spat as drops of salty liquid trail wet my cheeks.

"Itarille..." says Legolas in disbelief.

I do not give Thranduil a second look before I beeline out of there.

^v^v^v

In the safety of the cold halls, I allow myself to weep.

I mourn at the realization that my father never came back home, instead, a hollow shell of the same name reigns these halls.

I've tried to understand him, truly. 

He lost his father, his great love and that is without adding the horrors of war. Anyone in their right minds would be terrified.

But he carries his demons right up his sleeve, causing us to suffer them day in and day out, and I'm drained.

Yet at the end of the day, I can't help but love him.

Guilt and anger taste bitter in my mouth as my dinner threatens to rise and air escapes my grasp.

I lean my weight against the cool stone, choking with my tears whilst attempting to breathe, the world begins to spin and I close my eyes.

Yet in the darkness of my eyelids, the jolly ride takes force, weakening my legs causing me to hit the rough floor, the sting of my knees not registering.

At that I wrap my arms around me in a joke of a self-hug, touching my forehead to the floor releasing a whimper behind pressed lips.

I did not care I was in the middle of a highly frequented hall, nor that I was not being discreet in my crying, all I knew was the dark corners of the stone did not look so innocent anymore.

The shining lamps dim, the shadows stretching like fingers, morphing into mouthless whispers, seeking to consume my being, and I have no strength to fight them.

As my vision tunnels, I vaguely remember a flash of hazel and a warm presence enveloping me, when the shadows dive into my consciousness and I knew no more.

^v^v^v

_'There's no choice, not for me'_

_'One king to another'_

_'Boe i 'waen'_

_'I am not my grandfather'_

_'I am not my father!'_

_'What have we done?'_

_'Are you willing to die for it?'_

_'I don't know you anymore'_

_'Come back to me'_

_"Itarille"_ a fruity voice breaks through the fog of confusing whispers and I wake halfway, groaning slightly.

"Itarille" the voice softens "Echuio, little bird". _(Awaken)_

When asked so gently how can one refuse? So, after much effort, I manage to lift my lids to see the world.

"There you are, my darling girl," says the unmistakable voice of Hérion, giving me a gentle but worried smile.

"Mellon nín" I sigh, tiredly smiling back.

He helped me to the cushioned armchairs by the lively hearth, where he promptly served us our secretly beloved Men's rum.

"I would offer you a calming draught, however, I have a feeling you are in need of something stronger," he says handing me the glass half-filled in amber liquid, from which I immediately take a large swig, Lady proprietary be damned. 

Hérion does not ask anything at first, allowing me a moment of peace.

"You know" he begins conversationally "It was not in my evening plans to carry an unconscious Princess back to her rooms".

When I looked at him, I had expected perhaps mirth in his hazel depths, instead of the clear concern.

I drain my glass.

"Have you ever been in love?" I blabber before I can hold my tongue.

Hérion is clearly taken aback at the question, being my former governor though, he has had plenty of practice with the unexpected.

He quickly schools his features, although he takes a moment before gravelly responding "Yes".

"How did you know it was real?" he looks at the crackling embers.

"Love is not something one explains in words for it takes many forms and it is not easy to fake" he explains, voice taut with long-repressed feelings "If you truly wish to find out its authenticity, you only need yourself to answer".

I frown in confusion "I don't understand".

"It's as simple as tea little bird" he chuckles.

"If your lessons taught me anything Hérion, is that tea is anything but" comes my dry answer.

"Indeed" he nods "It is but a simple task to the naked eye, pour leaves on boiling water and call it a day, 

"No one sees that certain teas may become bitter if left to seep too long, some need the time or it'll taste like plain water, that there is a certain amount of leaves needed to add flavor, there are strong and bitter or lighter and sweet, some best served cold or hot. Then there are those that are best paired with milk or lemon, perhaps a bit of sugar or none. Yes, there are rules when preparing tea, 

"Yet in the end, it is the individual who truly knows how they like their tea".

At the end of his speech, he throws me a wink while I stare gaping.

I swear there must be something about being immortal, ancient, and speaking in riddles going on-trend.

Despite that, I slow smile twists my face as I take the wisdom under his words, even if he is using a beverage as an analogy.

But suddenly he turns more serious "I truly understand your situation little bird, nevertheless, do not forget we all carry our sacks of coal".

At once, my smile fades feeling rightfully scolded, though he immediately covers my delicate hand with his.

"You are not wrong to make mistakes, however, do not call out on others if you are not prepared to face yours" he smiles encouragingly.

My own returns though smaller, raising my hand to my chest then forward, tilting my head.

"Guren glassui" _(Thank you from my heart)._

He returns the gesture "Brethil nín" _(My Princess)._

With a parting smile, I head for the door with confident steps, my hand on the knob when he asks "Where are you going?".

"For tea" I smirk to the door, and I can hear his own in his response.

"Galu" _(Good luck)._

Then I'm out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gi suilion dear readers! So that was a shit ton of drama, I hope I didn't overwhelm you too much, and I know Thranduil is kind of a dick at the moment, but I swear there are some factors to that, which will be explained later on.
> 
> And in case you are not too sure what happened in the hall scene, that actually called an emotional-burnout, and yes, you can faint from it.
> 
> Oh! And thank you so much for the kudos and the comments I didn't think it would happen this soon. It makes me happy you're all liking the story so far :).
> 
> Now, what do you think Itarille meant with what she muttered to Thorin?  
> Will he ever forgive her? 
> 
> Comment your theories below! 
> 
> Savo 'lass a lalaith!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! I know I know, long wait but hear me out!
> 
> First, major writer's block, though I knew what I wanted to accomplish in this chapter, I had NO idea how to carry it out.
> 
> Second, the motherf*cker of my document erased most of the progress I had done in the last days, so I had to re-write it. I mean, it is at least 3000 words, and it was draining, but I'm happy with the end result.
> 
> Alright, that was enough complaints, sorry jaja.
> 
> Enjoy! Notes at the end.

_** T.A. 2,768.Dwarven Kingdom of Erebor ** _

The room is dim, the only sources of light are the lively hearth and three candles.

One I've placed it near me in the vanity, allowing me absentmindedly comb through my soft waves.

For though the Kingdom of Thror has captivated me, my attention lies elsewhere.

It lies in an ocean, vast and mysterious, the waves drawing me in with the splashes whispering sweetly in my ear.

It lies in midnight strands braided together, bound by silver and aghast.

It lies in a wicked grin and resounding laughter.

I know not what it is about the Prince of Erebor that just draws me in like a bee to honey, but I am determined to find out.

I grin like a fool as thoughts of the prince twirls around my mind.

A gentle knock startles me out of my daydreams, then allow entrance to none other than the Elvenking in all his glory of honeycomb and pomegranate, with his thorned crown adorned in woodland flowers and carven oak staff.

"Ada" I nod my head to him, to which he returns the gesture.

"Iel nín".

"I would've thought you ready my light" he then signals towards my free waves "Though I can see there's but one thing missing".

At that, I slide my fingers through my hair "I was not sure how to style it tonight".

It is quite a funny thing, elves are known for a great many things, one being, of course, the beautiful mess of braids and silver circlets.

However, I am much more the kind of elleth to gather my hair at the nape of my neck or a single braid over my shoulder, perhaps the occasional lifting of only half of my hair.

Not because I am not fond of the styling, on the contrary.

Rather, I am not adept at the art of braiding. 

"Sit" father orders without preamble, resting his staff at the end of the bed.

As I follow his word, he comes up behind me and begins to gather my strands with long-practiced fingers.

He works expertly and swiftly, brushing without pulling, sectioning, and braiding so gently it's lulling me to relax.

"I was not aware you could braid".

"A king must learn all knowledge at his disposal" he brushes off.

I give an unimpressed expression to his reflection, which he pointedly ignores.

"And your mother did not possess the flair for it" comes his sudden mutter, fondness coloring his voice.

I look back at the woodwork that is the vanity.

"She always seemed capable of anything," I say, my mind far away in a distant memory.

Ada pauses for a moment "Yes, she did".

He continues in silence as the shadow of grief permeates the room, both of us too lost in remembrance to speak.

"Alright, take a look" he announces as he finishes, placing his large hands over my shoulders.

As I look at my mirrored gaze, I feel amazed at the pairs of three-strand braids placed around my head to meet in a bun of braids at the back, leaving a single pair to meet down at the nape of my neck.

Strands of curls frame my round face and fall over my naked shoulders, the rest of my hair flows freely down past my shoulder blades, the ends of my circlet getting lost inside the jungle.

I raise a hand to touch the moonstone held in place by silver swishes, soothingly caressing the gem.

This specific piece of jewelry has become special to me, both because it is my first ever circlet and the one my Naneth gifted to me on my Name Day.

The fact that I was gifted my mothers' Princess circlet not only makes me feel connected to her but in a way reaffirms the fact that while I am not the heir of Mirkwood, I will remain its' Princess.

"I'm glad you like it" Ada breaks through my reverie, turning to look at him waiting for me at the door "Shall we?"

I inspect myself once more before nodding once and trotting on to join him, just as he offers up his arm for me to take it.

"Annon allen, Ada" I smile reverentially up at him.

His lips twitch slightly before opening the door and out to the halls.

^v^v^v

Dwarven feasts are... entertaining, to say the least.

Food is thrown around the room ending over the floor or someone's face, merry song pounds on the walls, and conversation does not come in small supply.

Honestly, I rather admire them for not fearing to be themselves even while having visitors.

And after all, it is _their_ home.

On the other hand, it also adds to my amusement when I read my fathers' exasperation in his pursed mouth and in drinking 'alcoholic' amounts of wine.

The food in itself was also heavenly, although I could hardly eat much, as dwarrows do like their grease and I am rather afraid it might not settle well in my belly.

As I look on around the room, I feel a strange sense of longing at all the laughter and contentment that settles over the room.

It has been a rather long time since I've had the chance to laugh as hard as they do, especially in a dining room.

I shake away the thoughts when the tables scrap the floor, making room for two parallel lines of dwarrows.

Then the music began to play.

The melody of fiddles, drums, and flutes chimed in time with the twirls, jumps, and claps of big hands and booted feet.

Although most of them are male, none is left out of the merriment.

So contagious is the atmosphere that I end up tapping my foot under my skirts and humming to the song.

All through the pool of sweating bodies a familiar face peeks through in royal blue tunics and fur-lined leather.

I resist the urge to spring forward and beeline straight to the dance, wondering what it would feel like to have his massive hand at the small of my back or my delicate hand in his thick one, but as sudden as the courage comes, it flees.

It is not strange for elves to dance, especially my own people, though it is apparently 'unelf-like' to show that kind of wildness in front of others.

Sometimes I wonder if what is said about us holds truth to it.

With that in thought, I stay rooted to my seat, watching my half-empty plate, until a single tug at my sleeve brings my attention to my left.

A pair of cornflower blues, framed by the darkest lashes I've ever seen, look up at me with the curiosity only a child could ever portray.

"Hello," the little dwarfling greets.

"Hello there, little one".

She scrunches up her adorable nose like in concentration as she tries "El sía erin lu egovaned... vín?" _('A star shines on the hour of our meeting')._

I grin, fighting the urge to coo at her broken Sindarin, although I decide to indulge her.

"Mae g'ovannen little one" _(Well met)_ she beams at me, offering up her tiny sausage hand.

"Will you dance with me, hiril nin?" _('My Lady')._

I look towards the dance floor, feeling self-conscious again "I-I don't know the steps".

"I'll teach them to you, they're easy! Please? Princess?" she bats her eyelids and tucks in her chin pouting, all in all, _very_ purposefully adorable.

And I'm afraid it is working wonders, why her jeweled eyes and rosy cheeks framed by jet-black curls are just too much for this world.

At that moment I decide to swallow my pride, and throw out the window my kins as well while I'm at it, for Eru forbid I shall not disappoint a child while I continue to breathe!

I place my index over my chin in feign consideration before I nod and cover her hand with mine, promptly bypassing my father's raised eyebrow.

The looks thrown my way are not unwelcoming, but confused, perhaps a curious one here and there.

My fellow companions don't look particularly impressed, though my escort raises only raises his perfectly trimmed eyebrows.

Quite expected, to be honest, it is not everyday one sees an elf participating in such a dance.

The small dwarrow girl does not let go of my hand as she guides me to a newly formed dwarven circle, where my other hand is taken captive.

Then the drums begin to pound along with the strings of the fiddle, then all erupt in singing.

^v^v^v

It's been said more than once I'm a quick learner, especially on my own.

To read, I needed but a few key aspects, and I was consuming book after book.

I needed only to observe Feren fight in our courtyard to know how to pick up a sword or dagger.

However, I happen to learn quicker when I am only observing and plenty of practice.

Not while I am in the middle of the halls among other dancers and every single head turned our way, and certainly not while Feren seems to be holding his breath if he is to not burst out laughing.

And most certainly not when trying to avoid eye contact with the unfairly handsome Prince!

The little lass has asked me to dance melody after melody, and while I do not tire easily, I can't help but blush, flustered.

I used to pride myself in my coordination, yet the moment I took up the girls' offer I've moved like nothing but a newborn calf attempting to walk.

And my choice of dress is definitely not fit for this much movement.

She took me to the side as the last song ended, handing me a jar of water which I take absently, reviewing all the dance steps in my mind.

"You're thinking it too much".

"I'm sorry?" I peer down at my dance companion as she frowns with all the seriousness of a child.

"Dancing is about feeling, having fun" she explains in a wise voice that does not belong to someone so young.

I bristle slightly at being called out by a maybe 10-year-old, though I have to give it to her, she's right.

I chew on my lip right as the crowd begins to gather once again, and it is right at that moment for a server to pass with a tray of jars filled with a yeast-smelling beverage.

Deciding I have already been stripped off my dignity enough and are in dire need of alcohol, I politely take one jar and emptied it in a single gulp.

Once finished, I put it down on a table near me and pull the girl with me, a determined air filling me as I take long strides towards the crowd.

As we integrate once more, the surroundings are now filled mostly with chuckling and mocking grins.

I hold my head high, jutting out my chin just when the instruments begin to play.

The dances are mostly concentrated on moving the feet, tapping the floor, and jumping slightly, perhaps twirling once in a while.

There have also been one or two songs where we separate into duos, those are not too complicated.

The group dances, however, are enough to make my calves hurt from exertion. 

This song is no exception, though there is one added bonus which makes it more exciting.

After the chorus, a single person climbs over a table and sings a verse of their own while dancing, then we all follow through.

Some decide to make it challenging, others prefer to keep it simple.

All in all, I am beginning to see the fun of it.

Though a verse in and I continue to struggle with trembling limbs, making me grimace.

At a pause, there's a tug on my skirt from the girl, and once she holds my attention, she gestures towards her heart, mouthing "Feel it".

I chew on my lip and inhale through my nose, closing my eyes.

I imagine I'm alone, somewhere with no sound, only the pulse coming from the floor, and my heart attempts to tune with it.

Then the walls fall to reveal the forest, the pulse no longer coming from pounding hands, but from the beating song of the wood, enveloping me in its green embrace.

And I open my fäe in welcome.

Splitting open my eyes, all but a second seemed to pass, and I register the fingers around my index, grounding me to the present.

I take a breathe and clear my mind, hitching up my skirts.

Then there's nothing but the music and me.

I smile smugly as I begin to get the gist of the moves two verses in, and the tiny smile my companion throws at me is proudful as she watches my feet.

Then, in the middle of a red-haired lad's verse, she tugs me down to her height and whispers in my ear.

I grin from ear to ear as all choreographically mimick the lads squat and jump, my legs protesting at the abuse.

She grins back, gesturing towards the closest table when all are occupied with the chorus.

I sprint and jump up the table just as they finish, immediately taking charge over the voices.

My voice is unquestionably higher pitched than dwarrows, though I am lower pitched for elven ears, and my accent is definitely not suitable for these kinds of songs.

Nevertheless, I manage to sound passable, especially with my so not appropriate words, if the crowds' cheers are anything to go by.

And they increase as I shuffle my feet one behind the other, placing my closed fists over my hips, my foot-falls more like rocks than leaves.

I felt on top of the world, all these strangers, _another_ race, praising me for something so nibble, my face only splits into a toothy grin. 

I hop down as the lyrics end, though the music continues and the crowd breaks into duos and trios.

I search for my small companion only to find she was stolen from me by another male, who as I inspected closer, I find him slightly familiar.

I am not given time to discern his identity as I am pulled into dancing with another dwarrow lad I have fleetingly seen in the mess of swirls and thumping feet.

He is quite recognizable, for he is not as stocky as most of his kin, and not to mention the vague star shape of his dark bronze hair and beard. 

He winks at me as he leads me in the spinning loops of other partners, his grip over my waist never straying and his eyes stayed on mine, quite flattering considering his eyes reach right over my chest. 

"Nori son of Lori, m'lady" he introduces, carrying his voice over the music "At your service".

I nod in greeting "Princess Itarille of Mirkwood, at yours".

"A pleasure, m'lady" his mustache twitches up with his grin.

Then the music ends, replaced by the howling of laughter and claps.

"Wicked moves you got lass" Nori compliments as he retires himself to a table "I dare hope we'll see more of each other".

I chuckle, scanning the crowd for my little partner in crime, who has mysteriously disappeared from my sight.

Instead, I crash with my father's cool gaze, though his eyes are as frigid as glaciers, observing me with the stare only a parent could ever give, one that does not require words to communicate his orders.

_'Sit down, before you make more of a fool of yourself'._

I turn my gaze to the floor and as dignified as I can, I make the walk of shame back to my seat.

As I lower myself to my chair, I attempt to make myself as tiny as a mouse, from the chilling side-glare Ada wears.

"We'll speak at a later time" he mutters only for me to hear and I cringe.

I settle for staring blankly at my plate, which as I observe, was subtly moved to the side and right under it, a single note.

Cautiously, making sure fathers' attention is elsewhere, I rip the note from underneath and read it beneath the table.

_'Meet me outside_

_T.'_

I bite my lip preventing the giddiness from manifesting, as my heart skips a beat in excitement.

There's still a minor detail to deal with, however. 

"I think I'll retire for the night, if that's alright, Ada".

He doesn't react at first, leaving me to think he was deliberately ignoring me.

Not breaking eye contact with the purple surface of his wine he replies absently "Yes, iel nín".

"Very well" the wooden feet of the chair scrape against the floor as I stand "Losto vae, Ada" _(Sleep well, Father)._

I pay no mind when he does not reply, swiftly walking towards the grand doors towards the dark corridors.

^v^v^v

The dark has never bothered me before, feasibly because my realm is always brightly lit, be it by the sun rays, or the lively fires.

Not even my room is left in darkness, the hearth is left burning right as I fall asleep and is already alight by the time I wake.

The uneasiness crawling over my skin is definitely to be expected.

Although I know to be perfectly safe, the cornered shadows and looming dark ceiling are nothing t be afraid of.

Still, I keep looking over my shoulder whilst searching for the damned dwarrow who asked for me.

I manage to stifle a yelp when a calloused hand encloses over mine.

"It's me" Thorin shushes.

I place a hand over my chest, willing my racing heart to calm "By the Valar, Thorin".

He chuckles in return "I would've thought you could hear me from a mile away".

"I can" if I was focused.

"Right" his sarcasm is only met with a glare.

"Come, follow me" he tugs at my hand, leading me away into the dark realm.

We walk through the railed pathways and down staircases, and I could not be more disoriented.

By the third staircase, I voice my curiosity "Where are you taking me?".

"You'll see" he answers enigmatically, pulling a scoff out of me.

A cool breeze then brushes through my hair, raising goosebumps over my pale skin.

And I look to see a sliver of silver light at the end of the corridor.

Curious I quicken up my pace, passing by my guide and reach the archway, and for the second time that day, my breathe is taken away.

The stone walls reach up and open up to allow the moonshine to blanket over a garden of trees, bouquets of flowers, and luscious grass, all surrounding a grotto flowing with aqua-colored water.

All beautifully decorated in tiny floating lights.

I giggle when one lands over my nose causing me to giggle, immediately scaring it away.

I close my eyes and concentrate on the faint song emitted by the few trees present, delving deeper into the open cavern.

It is not as powerful and pulsating as Mirkwood, though not any less beautiful.

I find it to be sweeter, and younger.

Like a child springing through the cave, softly singing their mother's lullaby, ignorant of the world outside.

"What is this place?" I inquire, my voice but above a whisper.

I hear the light crunch of grass come to my side "It is our secret garden".

"Secret?" I blink open my eyes, turning to look at Thorin, whose eyes are already on me "Why bring me here?".

"My sister thought you might like it" a strange something glowed in his eyes when he lied them on my own.

"Your sister?".

He suddenly grinned "She likes you".

"But I have not..." I pause, then almost smack my forehead when I realized my lack of observation skills.

Thorin barks a laugh when the realization hits me.

"You truly are so oblivious" he manages to say between chuckles, rustling my feathers.

"Oh, shove it will you?".

"My my, where is that Princess regalia I knew?".

"It's for special people only" I cross my arms like a petulant child.

"So, you consider me to not be special?" he feigns distress "You hurt me, Princess".

"Oh please, you'll live" I huff, giggles threatening to spill out.

Strangely fond at how at ease he now is in my presence, in contrast to the shyness he portrayed at first.

"I'm not sure, my vision tunnels" he reaches a hand to the skies.

I roll my eyes, giving in to my giggles.

He smirks at me, wrinkling the corner of his eyes, a curious glow in them.

We stay still, gazing into each other, the light mirth lingering yet making room for something I cannot name.

An idea then springs into my mind.

I break eye contact for a second to look at the night sky, before grinning at his questioning expression.

"Will you stargaze with me?".

A gentle smile raises his mustache "It would be my honor".

At that, I go to lie right in the middle of the garden, at the edge of the water.

We rest together in comforting silence, watching the twinkling lights and glowing opal against the black canvas of the sky.

"It's been a while since someone accompanied me to stargaze" I break the silence.

No response, though the rustle of grass against hair shows me he's listening.

I sigh ruefully "My Nana and I used to stargaze whenever we had the chance, telling me stories of old under the cover of night,

She was an amazing storyteller, could've confused her with a traveler".

"Was?" Thorin asks.

I feel my heart squeeze at that "She died".

Silence.

Then his hand covers my laced ones, which rest over my belly "I'm sorry".

His genuine sympathy moves me so, and when I turn to him, I see my grief mirrored in his deep eyes.

I free one of my hands to wrap over his, squeezing reassuringly "It's alright, it was a long time ago".

"Doesn't mean the pain lessened" my breathing hitches at that, and I choose not to respond, looking away.

"I lost my mother too" he breathes.

At once, I snap my head back to him, though he is looking back at the stars.

"It is rare for dwarves to have more than one or two children" not by choice goes unsaid "We were ecstatic when Amad discovered she was expecting a third,"

I slide closer to him, our shoulders touching.

"Though it was not easy" his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows "There were troubles throughout, and when the time came for the birth... she did not make it,"

I squeeze his hand again, bringing him back to me.

His eyes meet mine once more, this time shining with unshed tears, his smile sad.

"Why tell me this?" I speak softly.

He stares warmly "I wanted to".

My mouth parts but words evade me.

"What I truly wanted to say, was that you are not alone in your pain" he murmurs, his voice husky but tender.

It touches my fäe in ways no one ever has, he knows me for barely more a day and yet holds the keys to my locked doors.

His deep sapphires stare with just as much earnest as mine, momentarily fleeting down to my lips, though he makes no move.

And neither do I.

Though I do begin to wonder what his thin lips would feel like against my own, how he would taste.

Being this close, I catch the scent of him, an intoxicating combination of fur and rainstorm.

"We should go back" I propose so airily, had he not been this close he probably wouldn't have heard me.

"Yes, we should" he replies just as quietly.

We remain unmoving, our gaze as intense as the summer sun.

He then removes his hand from my grip and to my cheek, a single finger delicately gliding over the soft skin.

The touch is light yet so sinful, I shiver from the sheer intensity of it, a shuddering breath escaping me.

A feeling I cannot put a name to settles over my fäe, and I do not know if I ever will.

Though I have a hunch it shall not be the last time I feel it, and more so If I remain in the company of Thorin, Prince of Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoooo! Things gettin' saucyyyy! No kiss yet though! Psych!
> 
> Alright, I few aclarations, with Dís' Sindarin, I put this (' ') to symbolize what she wants to sya, but not saying it 'correctly'.
> 
> Then, I know it has been said the Eldar feel everything deeper, so I tried to portray that a bit, and what Itarille and Thorin feel right now towards each other, it is attraction passing to something else in a way, and while the Elves are not driven by lust or sexual attraction, I thought it'd be okay for her to feel that intense attraction towards her soulmate.
> 
> Also, I hope the dance scene didn't fall flat jaja. And wohooo we meet Nori, she'll meet most of the gang in the mountain, so I thought, let's start with Nori, because... why not? 
> 
> And also this is a glimpse of how 'nice' Thranduil is at times.
> 
> Oh! And a little trivia if you'd like to know, for the dance scene I was listening to "What do you do with a drunken sailor?" for the rythm, I think it sort of fits even though it's mostly a drinking song.
> 
> Then for the rest, aka when we are with Itarille and Thorin, it was a combination of "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift and "Can you feel the love tonight" by Elton John but the piano version.
> 
> Ok, looking forward to your comments! And watch out for the next episode! Lov u all!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there! I must say, this time I had truly no clue of what the hell I was going for, but I think it's okay.
> 
> And yeah yeah, I know, the story is going snail-paced, BUT, I will try to be more playful next chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

**_ T.A. 2,941. Inside the Halls of Thranduil _ **

That first night in Erebor springs to my mind as I head towards the dungeons,

Of when first we shared a secret moment, in a secret place.

It was also the first of many times Thorin reached out to me, and even while I was angry or annoyed, he never gave up on me.

I refuse to believe he has given up now.

Yet I am but a few leagues away from his cell, I pause, fidgeting with my free hands.

Last I was here he could not look at me without scowling, what would make this any different?

I shake away the dark thoughts creeping up on me and take a deep inhale before nodding to myself, marching forward.

I catch sight of him little before he does as well.

To my surprise, he does not turn away nor scowls at me, the dark edge gone from his bright oceans.

None utters a sound, simply standing in front of each other, contemplating.

" _Esme"_ he mutters the name brought to life by ink absorbed in paper.

Notes left on bags of coin, food, and iron, all signed by Esme, short for Emerald.

I smile timidly, my uneasiness gone in the awe twinkling in his gaze.

"I should've known" he shakes his head disbelieving.

"I wish I could've done more" I whisper, then he passes through the bars and reaches my hand, expression kind.

"You did what you could, and I could not be more grateful," he says, squeezing my captive hand.

Relief floods through me and my face splits into a toothy smile, suddenly feeling bold I grasp his hand and bring it to my heart.

"But why did you stop?" Thorin inquires, and I do not hold his gaze when I answer.

"I could not hold my thieving secret for long".

"Did he hurt you?" he need not use his name to know of whom he speaks of.

I connect our eyes again, gesturing 'no' with my head, mustering a reassuring smile.

His face says he clearly does not believe me, bringing a chuckle out my nose.

"May I sit?" he nods, gesturing to the floor.

As I lower myself I tuck my legs beneath me as a cushion, leaning against the bars, charcoal grey skirts pooling around me.

I observe our entwined hands, reminiscing on times past, of when we were only us.

When there were only sweet promises, lingering kisses, and sinful caresses.

" _What I would not do, to trade all my tomorrows for one more yesterday_ " quotes Thorin, bringing me back to the present.

Smiling knowingly, I bring his fingers to my lips, leaving a gentle kiss.

"We fell in love in a hopeless place, huh?" I murmur to his rough skin.

He chuckles "When did you become pessimistic?".

"How do you mean?".

He frees his hand from my grasp, only to bring it up to my face, cupping my cheek.

"Whenever it rained, you continued on as if it was sunny," he said, awe coloring his voice "And laughed without a care in the world".

I manage a half-smile and touch my lips to his palm, speaking against it "I am realistic meleth, not a pessimist".

"Last I remember, they were the same thing".

"No" I hum, raising my hand to cover his "I choose to look at the light, but I do not overlook the dark".

His straight brows raise to his hairline, a smile hiding underneath his facial hair as he strokes my cheekbone with his thumb.

I lean to the inside of the cell, and he meets me half-way, joining our foreheads together and I close my eyes.

In the darkness of my lids, I anchor myself to my love, reveling in his presence after decades of being apart, then blindly yet instinctive I reach for his beard, running my thin fingers through the coarse hair.

"Goheno nín, Thorin" _(Forgive me)_ I breathe.

"There's nothing to forgive, Itarille".

I stay silent, for as relieved as I am that he thinks like that, I can't help my guilt in not being there for him, as much help as I might have been, I was not _there._

I open my eyes to gaze into his own, them glowing with sincerity and adoration.

Though my sight was unnecessary for me to know he is no longer that prince I first met, young, innocent, and far too forgiving, they would say.

Now, a twilight envelopes his oceans, speaking of the heavy burden that is war and loss, but his waves roar unrelenting, reaffirming the fact he no longer is that young dwarrow but the King Under the Mountain.

 _'My_ _King'_ I think to myself, licking my lips then trapping them with my teeth.

His attention is brought down to them, and I stop breathing, daring to hope for a taste.

Instead, he clears his throat and extricates himself from me, leaving my cheek colder and my hand to hover mid-air.

"You should go" though he says it gently, it rubs me the wrong way.

"What if I wish to stay?".

He looks at me through his dark lashes "You know that is not possible".

Somehow, I get the feeling he does not mean me staying with him in the cells.

I blink away the sudden sting in my eyes as I stand at the same time as he.

"I'll come tomorrow" a hum is my answer.

I open my mouth, but my words halt on my tongue, thinking it best to simply leave.

"Alright" I nod "Abarad, Thorin" _(Until tomorrow)._

I begin to leave, but I pause at the foot of the stairs, a thought coming to my mind.

"I love you" I confess, voice but above a whisper.

I wait for a response, but none comes, deciding for me.

However, if I had stayed longer, I would've caught his own murmured confession.

^v^v^v

On my way back to the safety of my quarters, I battle with the sadness threatening to consume me.

Thorin may have said he forgives me, but he keeps his distance.

And even while I try to reach him, he slips right through my fingers.

But deep down, I know he needs time, for dwarven grudges are strong and they do not disappear in a day or two.

And I am willing to wait.

He is worth the wait.

Once inside the royal wing, I hasten my pace to my safe haven, but alas, I forgot I had a shadow.

"Itarille" I halt mid-step at the familiar voice of my brother.

"Where were you?" he asks, but I do not buy his attempt at sounding innocent, not one bit.

He does not count, however, that two can play that game.

"Why? Are you going to tell Ada?" I respond, my gaze fixed ahead of me.

"Why do you insist on being cross Itarille? He is our King, we owe him our respect" he exclaims, tone nearly pleading, and I spin on my heel, finally facing him.

"As he does to us" I enunciate each word, closing the distance "The fact that he is our King does not mean he gets to do as he pleases with our lives".

"That is not what I mean" he claims indignantly.

I throw my arms open, chuckling humorlessly "Then pray tell, what it is you mean? Because I'm beginning to fear you are as gullible as he wants us to be".

"I am not gullible" he defends lowly.

"The why defend him so passionately if you know he is being unreasonable?".

"We don't have to like his orders, we just have to follow them" he explains as if he was speaking to a child.

I grind my teeth together hard enough I fear they might break.

"What if he asked you to kill me? What then?" I abruptly say.

His eyes flashed with fear "He would never do that".

"What if he did? Would you follow?" my voice wavers "Even if you don't _like_ it?".

He stares at me, speechless.

"I will not live in fear and loathing for the rest of eternity, Legolas" I exhale, rolling my shoulders back in my best resemblance of the Princess I am "And I refuse to be controlled".

"Celairiel..." he tries.

"I am choosing my own path," I cut him off "And for as much as I want to-".

"You are my brother, Legolas, and I will always love you" I swallow the knot in my throat, a heavyweight dropping like lead in my heart "But I cannot choose for you nor can I follow you forever,

And neither can you" I flash of hurt glistens his eyes as I finish my speech.

I pass by him and beeline to my room, and he doesn't stop me.

^v^v^v

_"Stand together!"_

_My eyes snap open to find my whole panorama filled to the brim with armored bodies._

_Scanning from my left to my right I take note of the dwarven soldiers flanking my sides, all our backs turned against each other in a protective circle._

_My lungs hang heavy in my chest as they suck and release air in rapid succession, my heart pounding against my ribs and my ears hear nothing but a constant ringing._

_My aching hand brings my attention down to an unknown sword clutched so tightly my knuckles have gone white._

_I know not where I am, but I know I have to protect... what?_

_Or is it a who?_

_As questions fly through my mind I catch a flash of gold through the battling bodies._

_My focus has turned solely on searching for it, and when I do I find a pair of familiar dark blues, only to lose it again._

_"Nana" I call, dropping the sword and breaking into a sprint, colliding with everything standing on my path as I keep yelling for my mother._

_"Nana!" I reach my hand for what I think to be her shoulder when my toes get caught, causing me to fall._

_Only, there is no ground to meet me, but an endless void consuming all sound, sight, and touch._

_There's nothing but images and words I cannot make sense of, flaying my limbs around me trying to find purchase only to brush the freezing air._

_'I promised'_

_'Don't push me away'_

_'I love you'_

_'I trusted you!'_

_'You are not him'_

_'RUN!'_

_'I will not hide while others fight our battles FOR US!'_

_'I'm sorry...'_

_'I'm not ready'_

_'THORIN!'_

I shoot upward reaching for something unseen, the scream dying down my throat, and nightwear swimming in my sweat.

I place a hand over my chest, feeling my heart threatening to burst out, and willing myself to take deep inhales through my nose and out my mouth.

 _"Celairiel"_ the sound of my name makes me jump, renewing the race in my chest.

I sweep my head left and right, searching for the owner of the disembodied voice.

 _"Celairiel"_ it sing-songs, though it does not scare me so, for it is more the sing-song of a smooth and motherly, safe.

My brain stutters at the train of thought, _motherly._

"Nana?" I ask nobody and, expectedly, it is met with silence.

Shivers creep up my spine, and while they are most certainly not from cold, I rub my arms in an attempt to keep it at bay.

I slip off the bed and out to my, mysteriously open, balcony, looking out into the pitch-black canopy.

I look around, not really seeing, rather reminiscing on my dream.

It is not rare for me to have dreams of what has been or what will be, however, most of the time, I can actually make some sense out of them.

The only sense I have of this is impending doom, a thought that causes a new wave of shivers.

I have not seen war, but I am no stranger to the aftermath.

Nothing but broken souls and haunting memories, leaving empty shells of those who managed to live.

Sometimes I wonder if there are true winners in war.

I narrow down not for the first time on the single mountain in the distance.

Perhaps what awaits on Erebor is nothing but destruction and death.

And it is not only a hunch, for it is quite literally written.

But I'll be damned before I allow Thorin to face it alone.

It is at that moment someone clears their throat beside me, causing me to almost jump out of my skin, barely managing to stifle a shriek.

"I am terribly sorry" the offender blurts out, whom I identify as male.

I look to my side, expecting to find a guard or servant, then my brow furrows at finding no one there.

"Down here" a small hand waves, gesturing down.

Once I do, I find the tiniest creature I have ever seen, and although small, his furred feet are most positively twice the size of that of a dwarf.

"Good evening" but much more polite I take note of.

I arc a brow, a tinge perturbed I did not notice him slip into my quarters "That is to be decided".

The half-ling chuckles nervously before clearing his throat again, and I proceed to cross my arms, taking up the front of interrogator.

"And who might you be?".

"Oh, how terribly rude of me" he mutters to himself before extending his hand "Bilbo Baggins, my Lady".

"Princess Itarille" I take his impossibly small hand around mine, disappearing almost in its entirety.

"Please forgive me for sneaking in without invitation," he says once we let go "but this is of great importance and I need your help".

I tilt my head in question "You are part of Thorin's company, aren't you Mr. Baggins".

He smiles fleetingly, then scrunches up his nose "Is it that obvious?".

"No" I reassure, my mouth unwillingly curving upwards a the fussy hobbit.

"Oh, good" he coughs.

I eye the now snuffed out hearth momentarily before proposing we sit, which he accepts.

"You may state your business now, Mister Baggins," I say once he settles comfortably on the opposite armchair used by Hérion not too long ago.

He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, trying to make himself taller than he is.

"I am in dire need of your help, madam".

"And what is that?"

He opens and closes his mouth, knitting his eyebrows together, as if debating what would be wise to say.

"I-I" he stutters "Well, the company-".

"You wish to free the company?" I finish, taking pity on the poor creature.

He shakes his head in affirmation.

I stay silent, feigning contemplation, taking guilty pleasure in watching him squirming uneasily.

Then before I can speak, the moment is broken by a rumbling stomach.

He wraps his arms around his abdomen, revealing the source.

I chuckle "Would you like to eat Mister Baggins?".

"No, no, I do not wish to bother-" he stutters, blushing furiously, I cut him off.

"It is no bother, little one" I stand "Any requests?".

He stumbles over his words but manages to as for bread and cheese.

I bring back a tray plate of sandwiches and pastries with a side of grapes and water, which he gobbles immediately once I reassure him.

The poor thing mustn't have eaten in Eru knows how long.

He finishes the meal to the point he licked the juices off the plate, and I try to keep my giggling to a minimum to preserve his dignity.

However, I fail miserably when he catches my stare.

"I'm sorry" he mumbles, slowly putting the plate down.

"Don't fret" I brush off "Full?".

He contemplates a second then slowly shakes his head.

"Very well, I'll be right back" I announce, making my way to the door.

"Thank you," he exclaims "your grace is very kind".

My lips twitch upward as I respond "Make yourself comfortable".

^v^v^v

"They pillaged your pantry?" I manage through my chuckles.

"And I won't even tell you what they did in the bathroom," said the dismayed Bilbo, his thirteenth berry pastry in hand.

"I have a lively imagination".

Bilbo has been a marvel to converse with, especially when we came to the topics we share, like that of the dwarrow.

Or our love for Aradan's cooking.

"He does love you, you know" he abruptly said.

"Who?" I tense up.

"Your father".

I swallow hard, pointedly staring at the newly revived fire.

"I know he loves me, Bilbo, I've never questioned it" I turn to him "But I am no longer a child who cannot think for herself, and it's high time he realizes".

He says nothing at that, studying me with sympathy.

"And," I continue "My father never came home anyway".

"I'm sorry" and he genuinely looks so.

I offer a sad smile in return "It's not your fault, or anyone's' for that matter, it just is".

We do not exchange a word for a while, simply relishing in the crackling of the wood.

That is until it is broken by Bilbo's yawn, which to his credit he attempts to hide it behind his palm.

"Haven't slept a wink, have you" I state more than ask, and in answer comes another yawn.

"Come, use my bed" I basically order, to which he vehemently refuses.

"No no, I could not-".

"Quit fussing, little one, I am willingly giving you permission to use my bed" I lightly scold while rearranging the sheets.

He wrings his hand together, shifting his weight from foot to foot "What about you my Lady? Where will you sleep?".

"Don't worry about me, I won't be sleeping anytime soon" I approach him, kneeling to his level "Besides, someone needs to stand watch in case someone comes".

He continues his fidgeting until I cover his hands with mine "And call me Itarille".

"But your sheets, I'll smear dirt and Yavanna knows what else on them..." he tries one more time, though I can see the longing in his honey eyes as he looks upon them.

I cup his cheek motherly so "I'll take care of that, you have enough on your plate as is".

Begrudgingly he nods.

As I lead him to the bed I say "And if the dirt bothers you, I'll order a bath as well".

"Your Ladyship is truly too kind" he comments, barely sinking into the plush mattress and his eyelids already drooping.

"Itarille" I encourage, sitting beside him.

Although I am afraid he is already too far gone when he simply hums his agreement.

"We'll talk tomorrow, little one" I lower my voice in favor of him sleeping "For now, just sleep".

Unable to resist, I run my fingers through his tangled curls and he leans to my touch like a cat.

I have to fight the urge to fuss over him like the mother hen I can be, for as tiny and young as he seems to be, he is technically an adult hobbit.

However, I believe we all can agree hobbits are just too pure and cute for this world.

Thinking of this young lad joining this journey to such peril has me thinking it is not fair to have such innocent nature put to such test.

Then it hits me, what would a company of thirteen dwarves want a half-ling for?

Now _that_ is a question for a later time, I tell myself.

For as curious as I may be, I do not have the heart to interrogate the poor lad any longer.

I rearrange the fur and silk over his shoulder, then head for the armchair once again, leaving him to the land of dreams.

Bringing with me a stray pastry that managed to survive the hunger of the hobbit now faintly snoring in my bed, I munch thoughtfully on it.

I didn't lie when I said I'm not sleeping the rest of the night, and truly, I don't need it.

The Eldar don't need sleep, however, we do tire and we enter a state similar to that of dozing off in order to rest.

It is a personal preference whether we choose to sleep or not, such is my case, for I love to sleep.

Although it is both a blessing and a curse, for as much as I love to sleep I never know if I shall dream with the gentle summer breeze or the frigid air of winter.

And as one can see, at times it foreshadows what can be.

I do not see the future per se, I do, however, see possibility. 

And more often than not, what is shown to me is not entirely clear, leaving me to sort out the puzzle.

This last decade, I've only seen snippets and heard voices, but the one consistency is a battle, it has become clearer and clearer, and I conclude it is an event I cannot prevent.

And it is drawing ever closer.

Nonetheless, I will not stand by in the face of evil.

For now, I'll enjoy my last peaceful night in my peaceful realm, succumbing to the embers burning inside the hearth and soothed by the deep breathing coming from the bed.

_Don't be afraid, elen nín._

Come my mother's words as the time passes by me and I, for a change, feel I am actually flowing alongside it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooookay, that's a wrap.
> 
> I have to say, I was veeery tempted to have them kiss in this chapter, but I felt it just didn't fit quite yet, soooo, give it two or three chapter, IDK, we'll see.
> 
> And do not fret my friends! Our relationship with Leggy boy will not be antagonistic forever.
> 
> And Bilbo's here! I love the hobbit, he is just too cute, and I couldn't resist Itarille mothering him with sweets and a warm bed. As well as him trying to solve a family problem.
> 
> Even though it surprasses him by a couple of years jaja.
> 
> I was planning to have another ending, but dear oh dear it was coming out soo wrong.
> 
> I probably should not be doing this at 3 in the morning, but, oh well...
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, leave comments, questions, or whatever you like below! Kudos and stay tuned!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally have no excuse for not uploading for two weeks, actually, I was about to announce that I would be uploading each Monday, but...
> 
> It's been a rough patch of days for me guys, I really hope you understand, I promise I will try to upload each Monday, and I'm sorry in advance if there are any delays.
> 
> But, in a way of 'compensating' I made it really long.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :).

_** T.A. 2,768.Dwarven Kingdom of Erebor ** _

It is rare among the Eldar for there to be more than two children in a family.

It is rarer, however, for there to be twins. Such was the case for the Lord and Lady of Imladris, as well as the King and Queen of Mirkwood.

And of course, as it tends to be with twins, few can tell them apart.

Although to their luck, this particular set of twins were in fact, brother and sister.

Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, heir to the throne and 'eldest' of the Elvenking.

And Princess Itarille of Mirkwood, soon-to-be head adviser, and the absolute worst archer in existence.

Really, for all the similarities my Hanar and I have, from our platinum hair down to the size of our boots, archery will never be one of them.

"Bloody-!" I cut myself off as, for Eru knows what time by now, I manage to miss the bullseye.

At the very least, I actually hit the damned thing, even if it was the white.

Not to mention, the space we found for practising it's not what one would call, bright.

It would seem most of the training areas are underground, and while are not dimmed, I prefer the use of the sunlight.

It is the worst strategy to use the lightening as a reason for missing considering the eyesight of the Eldar, however, I am using whatever is at my disposal.

Feren barks in laughter behind me.

"I thought you were supposed to be instructing me Feren, not laughing your ass off" I grumble through my teeth.

He feigns to wipe his eye as he approaches "Do forgive me, Princess, but it is my belief we should keep you away from the bow until further notice".

The polite way of saying I am hopeless.

"I just don't understand," I hand the bow to Feren rather roughly "What is it with me and a bow that does not work?!"

I've practised day in and day out with the bloody weapon, I have it down to a fine art the simple nocking of an arrow and yet, my aim is the absolute worst.

Which strangely so, does not happen with my knives.

"Perhaps you're simply not built for it" Feren shrugs, then immediately presses his lips together as I answer with a murderous glare.

"How am I not built for it? I am an elf for Erus' sake!" an excuse for one but an elf nonetheless.

He shakes his head, chuckling "Well, then, maybe you and the bow are simply not meant to be".

I sigh, defeated.

"You are distracted though" he comments out of the blue.

"Forgive me Feren, but it is not my first in missing the bullseye using the bow".

"Indeed" he agrees "Nevertheless, at the moment, you quite are".

I cross my arms challengingly "Really? How so?".

"As proficient as you are in disguising daydreaming, your Majesty," he says, seeming to not be bothered by my scrutinizing "I have caught you more than once looking away with a dreamy glaze".

He dramatically bats his lashes for show, which of course I am not impressed by.

He retreats as he notices my expression, clearing his throat "Alright, so who is it?".

"What makes you think is a someone?" I ask, slightly taken aback.

"I know that twinkle Princess," he gestures to my eyes "It means someone is occupying your thoughts, now out with it".

I look anywhere but his eyes, fighting the pink threatening to paint my cheeks, both because I will not surrender to his antics and... because the bastard's right.

It has been a few moons since my first encounter with Thorin, and I admit it has not been my last.

That night, he accompanied me to my room then asked if he could see me again, same place, same time.

And I could not resist accepting, so we parted that night, my hand tingling from his lingering goodbye kiss.

My heart still races and an involuntary smile appears on my face at the thought of him and our nights out.

"Oh.dear.Eru" breaks the voice of Feren through my sweet thoughts, and I scowl at him.

"What?".

"You are- no, are you?" Feren stutters, disbelief written all over his face.

My eyes widen at his implication "Oh! No no! Or, well- I mean... I don't know".

I wring my hands together, staring at the floor, not quite sure what is wise to say.

A million scenarios flying through my mind.

How much does he know?

Will he tell my father?

Has he told my father?

Is he about to drag me back home?

Feren places his hand on my shoulder, probably in an attempt to calm the nervous wreck I am reducing to.

"Peace, Princess" he reassures "You do not have to tell me anything, however as my duty is protecting you I must make sure you are safe".

A tiny smile quirks the corner of my lips "Don't fret Feren, I am most positively safe".

"Good" he returns with a grin.

Mine falls, however, as a question begs to be answered "Are you going to tell Ada?".

He hums, placing a finger over his chin, even if he is clearly faking I still bite my lip.

"I am to report only if I sense you are in danger Princess" ha pauses for dramatic effect "But I am yet to see you in peril".

His conspiratory smirk is enough for my shoulders to un-tense. 

"You are horrible" I comment, my voice wavering.

"Why thank you," he says, although it was definitely not a compliment.

He drops his hand to pass my waterskin to me, from which I take a good gulp.

"I am afraid Feren" I suddenly admit.

He stops mid-sip, then directs his raised eyebrow to me, encouraging me to continue.

I take a deep breath before continuing "I am afraid I am committing a mistake".

"A mistake?".

"Yes," I whisper "I do not know what it is that I feel, I have become fond of him but...".

"You're scared that he does not share your fondness?" he hums.

"I suppose that could be one" one of many haunting my mind.

Like of course, the fact that he is a _dwarrow_ , which as much as I do not care, I have an idea of who will.

I mean, it was barely acceptable for Lúthien and Beren to be together, what would make me think Thorin and I could be... something.

Then I start when I look to find a very serious Feren staring me square in the eyes.

"Now, you listen to me Itarille" I blink when he uses my name, and I spy a familiar shine in his eye "No one, in their right mind would ever refuse you, let alone not love you".

I chuckle nervously, feeling rather speechless "Love is a strong word Feren".

He blinks "Right, forgive me" he clears his throat once more.

"My point is, I do not see a reason why he would not return your fondness" he finishes, voice strangely strained.

I frown at him, concerned, but he eludes my gaze.

"Well, I believe it is time we return to your chambers if you wish to have enough time for the meeting".

My countenance darkens as I am rudely reminded of the small meeting I am to attend with Ada, though I do not miss the sneaky change of subject.

"Of course, let's go".

As we leave the training ground, I ponder if it truly is worth it to pursue Thorin.

The answer does not come back immediately, nevertheless, I believe so.

In my heart.

^v^v^v

It has been dictated since I was nought but an elfling, that once Legolas inherit the throne, I would 'rule' by his side as Head Advisor.

Which honestly welcomed, first because that would mean I would be of help both to my brother and our kingdom, instead of sitting there and look pretty.

Now, I take it all back.

For Eru, if I knew meetings are _this_ dull, I would rather apply for Captain of the Guard.

Mostly because we have spoken mostly of confirmed trade routes, orders for, I do not know what, and supplies.

Well, more like they are discussing.

I am quite literally, sitting there.

And looking pretty.

I sigh silently for the millionth time, scanning the small dim room.

There are not many of us as I might have thought.

In attendance, there is, of course, Ada and me, along with King Thror and his son.

Then two other dwarrow sitting closely.

One has been taking notes non-stop, while the other comments once or twice in what is missing.

They had introduced them the moment we arrived, but only one stuck with me for its simplicity.

And also because of the kind face, it is attached to.

Then there is the shadow of the Guard that had greeted us at first, only now I have learned his name.

Dwalin, I believe it was, I identify him by the dark scowl he usually sends our way rather than his impressive stature and heavy build.

"I suppose it is settled then" announces the Elvenking, pulling me back to reality.

Relief washes over me at the prospect that the meeting is almost over, but before I can even think to get up and run for it.

Looking forward to a relaxing afternoon with a good book or exploring underground courtyards.

"Just a moment, Thranduil" King Thror holds his hand up to halt from moving yet.

"Whatever for, Thror?" he replies.

The dwarrow King grunts "I believe we have a matter of payment to discuss".

"I was under the impression we already had," Ada says, though I am not sure I like where the conversation is going.

"You know of what I speak" the King implies.

I frown looking between the two Kings once I sense Ada tensing next to me, imperceptively if one does not know him well.

"Oh?".

"Indeed," Thror folds his arms over the table, a common gesture for negotiating "Hard work should earn reward".

"I agree," Ada copies his monotone tone "When it is something one purchases, not own".

"What is going on Ada?" I murmur, leaning to him.

He glances at me as if he had forgotten I was there.

"We should discuss more privately" Ada offers.

"Why? Is there something you are hiding, Thranduil?" the until now silent Prince Thrain speaks, his tone clearly stating although he posed a question.

I observe Ada, to the naked eye he portrays nothing but neutrality, to mine, I can see his rigid posture and lips pressed to a thin line, gripping his staff to the point I fear it might break.

"There is no need for me to hide, it is simply a matter I wish to discuss _alone"_ he raises his chin as if challenging "Unless, the King is too afraid to speak to me, one on one".

My eyes widen at the clear insults being thrown around, I would honestly be astounded should we continue to have an alliance after this.

None backs down, both Kings stare hotly at each other unblinking.

The atmosphere in the room becomes thick enough I could cut it with a knife.

I hold my breath, scared to even speak over the suffocating silence.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, it is Ada who breaks it.

"Such greed," he mutters, loud enough to echo across the room like a sinister breeze "It is unbecoming of you, my lord".

He finishes with a mocking inclination of his head.

To King Thrors credit, he does not shout as I would've thought, instead he narrows his gaze, leathery face darkening then utters.

"Leave us" all dwarrows bow then go for the door, including Dwalin.

I turn to Ada, whose sight does not wander away, nevertheless, I understand the silent command.

Once I stand I murmur a quick "I'll meet you for dinner" and I beeline out of there.

A few leagues away from the meeting room, I release the breath I hadn't realize I was holding.

The static in the room had been enough for the hairs on my neck to raise, my heart beating like a startled bird against my ribs.

Most importantly though, what on Arda were they talking about?

My reverie is broken when a rich chuckle honeys my ears.

"I would've thought you were escaping the War of Wrath".

An involuntary giggle blows out my mouth, a grin showing my teeth.

"Yes, something like that".

Thorin sports his trademark smirk as he leans against the wall, royal blue tunic and silver belt complimenting his princely regalia.

If I'm honest though, I think he might as well be using a sack of potatoes and I would find his presence no different.

The image of Thorin in dressed in the unshapely sack brings a grin to my face, to which he narrows his gaze.

"Something funny, your Highness?" he asks playfully.

"Oh? Absolutely nothing my Lord, what would put that on your mind?" I feign innocence.

He arcs a brow "The little wrinkle beneath your eye tells me all I need".

My hand flies to the spot self-consciously, to which he presses his lips together in what looks to be an attempt to keep from laughing.

"You are the worst" I comment once I realize I'm being played for fool.

"Are you free now?" he inquires as if I had said nothing.

I consider him suspiciously, though inside my heart flutters "Perhaps, why? Do you have something in mind, my Lord?".

His responding grin blows all anxiety, if there ever was, away.

"Maybe," he then bites his lip, a strange show of nervousness, which immediately sparks my own curiosity.

"Would you-" he cuts off clearing his throat.

"Yes?" I encourage, suppressing a growing smile.

Rolling back his broad shoulders, he finally says "Would you like to go riding?". 

He adds a 'with me' though I so softly I almost didn't catch it.

I give in to the excited smile as I nod enthusiastically, to which relief floods into his face.

"Excellent, follow me then" he offers his arm to me, and I gladly accept.

^v^v^v

"Hey! Wait!" exclaims a distressed Thorin when my knees dug into my horse, breaking into a run.

I laugh merrily once I see him being left behind, urging my ride forward.

And my noble steed certainly delivers, running through the plains around Dale, out into the open.

I had forgone putting a saddle and reins both for Tinnu to be more comfortable, and because I was a tad impatient to just go.

To feel the wind make my hair fly behind me like a cape, spread my arms wide as if I could fly.

If I closed my eyes, I can almost imagine the clouds beneath me and the blue sky above, shooting through the heavens like a star.

Before I have the chance to however I hear the pounding hooves of a pony coming up beside me, only the laboured breathing of the poor smaller animal making me slow down to a trot.

Though when I finally look at my riding companion, both rider and beast seem to be out of breath.

"You couldn't wait for me, could you?" Thorin manages through his breath.

I chuckle, to which he definitely does not seem amused.

"You were taking too long, and I could literally feel Tinnu itching to go" she snorts, like begging to differ.

Shaking his head Thorin urges the cream coloured pony forward, and I copy him as we begin a slow walk down a clear cart trail leading to the outskirts of the dwarven realm.

We spent a while in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each others company.

During which a stole some glances at him, watching his expertise in handling the pony, on hand the reins whilst the other strokes their neck.

I look to my hands, tangled in Tinnus balayashed mane, grinning to myself, thinking if those hands were as expert as they seemed.

"How do you guide her without the reins?" my shoulders jump when he suddenly speaks.

"Huh?" I answer dumbly before collecting myself "Oh! Well, it comes easy to us elves to connect with most animals, so I trained her to follow directions through sounds and pressure with my legs".

"Interesting," he says, genuinely interested.

"It was still no easy task," I continue "Ada rescued her you see, from barbarians trying to break her,"

I stroke between her ears, as I know she loves "Their treatment was rough, she was sore all over her back and mouth, and she utterly refused to be mounted, even by one of us".

I look to Thorin, finding his eyebrows knit together, staring at the mare with sympathy.

"It was a lot of work, but she finally gave me her trust" taking back my hand I take a small section of her mane and begin to make little braids.

He does not give a full response safe for a hum, then we fall silent again.

"You know what'd be fun?" though he looks entirely serious, his tone says otherwise.

And I'm not sure if I like it.

"What?" I pronounce slowly, cautious.

"A race" he does not give me time to answer as he digs his heels into the pony and breaks into a trot, then a run.

I huff, very much sceptical he could actually outrun, still, I follow soon enough, ordering with a gentle "Gwaem!" _(Let's go!)._

As expected I pass right by him, I laugh, my focus straight ahead.

To my surprise though, I spy Thorin in the corner of my eye, barely keeping up with me.

It was not truly a race, mostly because it was an easy win for me, more like a friendly run.

Circling each other, and allowing Thorin to come up beside me as we rode along the plains pass Dale.

It was when I spied the Lake though when I truly let Tinnu reach her full speed.

"Hey!" I hear Thorin protest but it is lost in the wind whistling in my ear.

In what looked like a blink we were slowing down to a trot, coming to halt at the shore.

I easily slipped down her side allowing her to drop and roll in the dirt before standing and taking long gulps of the clear water.

I decided to sit cross-legged by the water, watching little waves lap into the small patch of sand.

It is a good thing I decided to change into riding attire, rather than remain in my long trained dress, for Ada would certainly never forgive me if I deigned to stain the white silk.

I take in the lakes breeze, watching how it absorbs the late afternoon sun, mirroring the shine waveringly, it's glittering blinding if looked at directly.

I gaze down to my moving reflection, observing my unfocused face as I rest it over my fist.

I am not what one would call insecure, though I have never considered myself particularly beautiful.

I must sound so self-deprecating, I mean, I'm an elf, we are basically ethereal.

In the eyes of other races that is.

Of course, I have platinum waves running down my back and icy-grey irises.

Like most Sindar elves.

Not really what I would call _unique_.

A shadow passes over me, hot wind blowing at my face, halting my thoughts.

 _'Too hot'_ comes to mind.

I snap my head around, finding nothing but peaceful waters, and no wind to move the water.

My skin crawls as shivers run up my spine.

_'I am fire'_

I whip my head back to the water, my reflection clear like in a mirror.

And yet it is not me I see.

Those eyes are haunted and scared, the sky is dark, ignited with the embers from the burning buildings, phantom screams of helplessness float to my ears.

When I catch sight dark keyholes engulfed in amber looming over me, air escapes me and a wet pressure builds behind my eyes.

_'I AM DEATH'._

"Princess?" I'm brought back before I can scream.

In a blink, I was staring back at my wavy face.

I release a shaky breath, closing my eyes.

"Princess?" I hear the sound of boots against the ground beside me "Are you alright?".

I jump straight back into my feet, probably startling my concerned companion.

"I need to go back," I say, my voice wavering.

I ignored his questioning as I climbed my mare, then began to lead her away.

"Princess, wait" Thorin puts his broad hand on my horse, stopping her.

When I finally make eye contact, I see his brows knitted together and eyes expressing confusion and worry.

I open my mouth, wanting to explain myself.

Yet no words pass my tongue.

And Thorin somehow sees my evidently shaken estate, and with a bit of reluctance, he drops his hand, letting me go.

I wanted to stay, but I could not even look properly at him, not without breaking down in sobs.

No protests follow me as I leave him behind.

^v^v^v

I had locked my room as soon as I got back, melting into a trembling ball of anxiety, screams distantly ringing in my ear.

I have had much more horrid visions, I will admit that, but never in my life has a vision come to me while awake.

This are the moments where I feel most stripped of my layers, praying for anyone to come find me.

Legolas.

Ada.

Nana.

Maybe Thorin.

I wish to be blindfolded from the rest of the world, wrapped into a cocoon of warmth and love, reassurances and promises whispered to my ear as a hand rubs my back.

But I know, no one is coming for me.

I only have myself to seek comfort from.

I had realised that long ago, and since then, whenever a new nightmare or vision haunts my thoughts I leave it be.

Not daring read into it.

I used to do it once and would take matters in my own hands.

Only to have them burned.

Once I had finally pulled myself together, I stood from my position against the door, choosing to occupy my mind in bringing to life the words from the novel I decided to bring.

I avoid the vanity, choosing instead to read on the bed. 

Stripping off my most outer layer, boots and gloves.

I know not how much time has passed, since the only trace of light come from the hearth and candles, though I feel the last traces of my breakdown drain from me.

A serene atmosphere enveloping me.

Which was nice while it lasted as it was interrupted by two timid knocks at the door.

Heaving away from the comfortable bed and enchanting book, I go to open the door.

Finding no one waiting for me.

"Princess!" exclaims the excited voice of none other than my adorable dancing partner.

"Hello, little one" I greet, kneeling to be almost eye to eye.

She beams up at me, smile wide enough to spot a missing tooth.

"What brings you here? Is there something I can help you with?".

With that, her shoulders drop "I came to apologize, hiril nin".

I frown "Whatever for?".

"For my brother".

I blink.

"I know he can be grumpy sometimes" she hurriedly began to ramble, hands waving around her "But I swear whatever he said, he meant no ill to you!".

"I don't understand," I say, though I have a feeling of what she speaks.

She holds her hands together on her chest "He said that he may have upset you and that he doesn't know how to make it up to you".

Then it dawns on me, mouth forming an 'oh'.

Little Dís pleads at me with hug puppy eyes, glittering like little jewels, to which I can't help but smile reassuringly.

"He did nothing, little one, it was-" I pause, searching for the right words.

I may have taken to long as Dís started fidgeting, so I placed a placating hand on her tiny shoulder.

"It wasn't his fault, that is certain".

She seems to relax, then immediately perks up "Do you like sunsets?".

A bit taken aback by the sudden change of topic I confirm rather absently.

But apparently, it was a good enough answer as she takes my hand and tugs at it.

"Come with me" she orders with such determination it takes me by surprise.

In the rush, I had almost forgotten to put on shoes as the little girl pulled me away into the halls.

I have no recollection of where she was leading me, and at first, I thought she might have been taking me to the garden were it not for the countless stairs she had me climb up.

And up and up and up.

I noticed the walls were also different.

Carved tapestries were non-existent, the ceiling lowered and the walls halls narrower.

I am not sure whether we are going deeper into the mountain or to the outside world.

Fortunately, that question is answered as I spot a ray of light coming out of a single opening ahead of us, only a few narrow steps needed to reach it.

At the bottom of them, she let's go, whispering "This is where I leave you, Princess".

"What?" I question, confused.

I mean, she was the one who brought me here.

"Just trust me," she answers pushing against my legs "Now off you go".

I decide to humour her, shaking my head "Alright, but I warn you, if you are leading me to my death I will come back to haunt you".

I chuckle gently when she sticks her tongue out, then runs off.

I roll my eyes, feeling both fond and amused at her childishness.

Bringing my attention back to the opening, I begin the climb up, having to duck my head to enable me to pass through the entrance.

What I find on the other side is a brooding Prince, his back to me, it is then that I discover little Dís' plot.

Clever girl.

Though before I call out to the dwarven Prince the scenery catches my gaze.

It is only now that I realize Dís has brought me near the tip of the mountain, giving me a full-on view of the most beautiful sight I have laid eyes upon.

The land stretches as far as the eye can reach and if I look hard enough I bet I could make out the Misty Mountains.

The lake od Esgaroth has shrunk down to a puddle, and the forest of Mirkwood looked to be made by the stoke of a brush against a canvas.

The sky seemed close enough I only had to reach out my hand to touch it.

And as the golden sun sank to be swallowed into the sand-coloured plains, I swore if I took a peek I would see down into the infinity of the stars of Varda.

Thorin snaps his attention to me as I released a gasp.

"Princess," he says, clearly surprised to find me here.

My focus moves back to him "Hello".

"What are you-? How did you find this place?" he closes the distance between us until he is within arms reach.

I smile knowingly "Dís asked if I liked sunsets".

His eyes go up to his head good naturally "Of course she did".

Then awkward silence drops over us.

I bite my lip, switching my weight from what foot to another, avoiding his gaze.

When I can't take it anymore I open my mouth to speak.

But Thorin beats me to it "Princess, whatever I did or whatever I said, I'm sorry".

"Thorin-".

"I truly understand if you do not wish to associate with me any longer but I wanted to at least make it known I am completely and utterly so-".

"Thorin!" I cut off his nervous rambling, grabbing him by both his shoulders "Stop it, really,".

He sags defeatedly, looking ready to receive a slap.

Instead, I squeeze his strong shoulders assuringly "It's okay, you did nothing wrong".

He looks at me like I've gone mad, making chuckle.

"Truly, it wasn't your doing".

"Oh" he manages to say in his stupor "But, then-?".

"Nothing" I snap, a tad too sharply judging by his flinch.

I sigh, dropping my arms "I'm sorry, it is... a topic I do not like to discuss".

Hesitantly, he reaches for my hand and squeezes gently, giving me an equally gentle smile "It's alright, I understand".

Up here the cooler breeze brushes against my cheeks and nose, painting them pink.

But at his statement, they deepen to a light red, for I had feared I would be bombarded in questions.

I return the gesture, expressing my gratitude in a smile.

"Come" he murmurs, pulling me to the edge of the small outcrop.

We sit at the border, leaving our legs to dangle over the fall, and take notice that we are now the same height.

It is peaceful up here, there is no sound, not even from the birds, safe the soft wind lifting wisps of hair from my face.

I could stay up here forever if only to live in this calmness, where time seems to have stopped.

"I have visions of the future" I get the feeling to admit, though I do not know what his expression is, for I am too afraid of seeing it.

I look down at my swinging feet "I can't explain them in their entirety but, they plague my dreams, sending me mixed messages I do not understand,

and I truly do not want to know".

He says nothing, letting me speak.

"I hate carrying the knowledge of the future, so I gave up trying to understand them".

"Why?" he asks softly.

I don't want to answer, but I feel I at least owe him an explanation "I tried it once, preventing an event from happening I mean".

I close my eyes "It... it did not end well".

As my voice breaks, Thorin squeezes my hand, which I had not realize he still held.

"I'm sorry".

I open my eyes, however, I do not look at him "Don't be, it's been years since".

The atmosphere between us becomes heavier after my confession, making me squirm in my place.

"What is this place?" I break through the quiet, deciding it is best to change the topic.

And luckily, Thorin receives the message.

"It was a gift to us, made by our father" he responds, voice as airily as mine "After our mother died, he wanted a safe haven, somewhere where no memories of her existed".

His voice turns more sombre "Somewhere we could take our minds off everything".

"I see" it is my only comment as I continued to glaze over the land.

"He must've loved her very much".

"It is breathtakingly beautiful" I gasp.

"Yes" Thorin mutters, his tone gone to a low husk "It very much is".

I look back to him, finding his sapphire irises already on me.

Gazing at them, I see they have darkened in a way that brings back heat to my cheeks.

I bite my lip as an unknown feeling washes over me, like a pleasantly scorching fire licking at my skin, sending goosebumps up and down my spine.

All under his intense gaze.

I admit, it has not been the first time he has looked at me like that, making my heart stutter.

"We should go back inside" I blurt out watching the lowering sun casting shadows around his beautifully carved face, my resolve grinding down to dust.

He says nothing, safe for a hum.

I feel the tension grow, caging us in its claws.

He slowly leans in, and it is not long before I follow.

He raises a broad hand to my face, delicately cupping my cheek and brushing his thumb under my eye, treating me like I could disappear in a second.

When we are close enough for our noses touch and our breaths mingle, we stop for a minute, staring down to our souls.

A question lies in his eyes as he tilts his head, sending my heart thumping into my ribcage, my breath shortening.

"You are biting your lip" he utters when he fleetingly looks to said lips.

I immediately release it once the observation is made.

He comes back to my eyes, even more, intense than before, he closes in, brushing our lips together and I gasp at the contact.

Then, almost methodically, he covers my lips with mine in a soft kiss.

My heart goes boom, my veins come alive and I finally breathe.

For his kiss is as gentle and loving as the breeze of the sea, I feel like crying from the sheer passion of it.

Were he not holding me I would float away.

His lips then move against mine and I respond in kind, bringing my hand to his own bearded cheek.

Thorin lets go of my hand to hold my face between his rough palms.

All worries seemed to fade away in his kiss, the world disappearing around us leaving him and I.

When we part, gasping for air, I already miss the heat of his lips.

"Itarille" he whispers, voice a deeper octave, like a man whose water source has been cut off after days dying of thirst.

"Thorin" saying his name makes me realize how my own voice resonates the same longing.

Through hooded eyes, I meet the pair of untamed oceans soaring like waves colliding against the cliffs of the shore, opening their arms begging me to join them down below.

And just like that, a bucket of water drops on me making me freeze with uncertainty, my worries coming back with a vengeance.

Thorin seemed to notice the change for he frees my face, brows knitting in confusion.

"What's wrong?" he voices.

I breathe in shakily, shaking my head as if it will disperse all the complicated thoughts coursing through me.

Thorin, however, seems to take it the wrong way.

He looks down, shame evident on his cheeks, his lips disappearing in a thin line.

"I see" he stands then, my eyes following his every move "Please forgive me, Princess ".

"What?" I question dumbly.

"I overstepped my bounds, I should not have made you feel pressured to respond-".

"What?!" I exclaim, finally coming out of my stupor "No, Thorin, no".

I reach for his hand, clambering back to my feet "That is not at all what is going on here".

"Then pray tell, what is?!" he raises his tone slightly, stepping away from my touch "I do not want to play this game anymore Princess".

"What game?" I challenge, my nerves getting the best of me.

"Whatever is the one you are playing!" he gestures at both of us "The one where you try to ignore whatever this is, confusing my heart and daring it to hope!".

I stand there gaping like I had just taken a slap to the face.

He softens his countenance "I beg of you Princess, put me out of my misery, say what you feel, good or bad, I want to hear it".

I stand there in silence, my mind instantly going blank, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of the water.

My answer is very much clear in the confines of my head, but my thick tongue is complicating the expressing of it.

I take too much liberty in attempting to speak for I watch Thorin's shoulders sag defeatedly.

"Your silence is all I need" he mutters before he approaches the entrance, and though it has no door, it almost feels like there is one.

A door closing to his heart.

"Thorin wait!" I force my mouth to work, not really processing what I am speaking.

It is enough for now, to make him halt in his steps.

And I take the opportunity.

"Thorin, I... I don't know what this is" I vocalize slowly "And I'm afraid".

His back is still to me, though he has not left, giving me courage.

"I desperately need to know, and I'm not sure I want to know the answer" I look to my closed fists, biting my lip "It frightens me".

"What does?" he imposes a question of his own.

"Knowing," I answer under my breath.

A thick finger hooks under my chin, bringing my gaze back to Thorins', whom I had not realised came close to me.

His smile is gentle and patient, warming my core "I think you already know the answer, and that is what scares you so".

My eyes widen at this.

He chuckles softly at my stunned face, fondness swirling in his sapphire depth as he swipes my curls behind my pointed ear.

His fingers linger behind the shell of my ear before travelling down to settle on my neck.

"I know how I feel, and I'm not afraid" he sighs "Amrâlimê" _(my love)._

I exhale shakily, my heart skipping a beat, even if I do not know what it means, it reaches my heart.

"From the moment I met you, my heart was already gone" I run my hand through his beard up to his brow, brushing it with my thumb.

"Guren min gaim lín, hír nín" _(My heart is in your hands, my lord)._

If his tiny smiles had already captured my affections, this one certainly made my knees grow weak.

It was by far the most sincere and radiant I have seen from him, showing off his pearly white teeth.

The one that makes the corner of your eyes wrinkle.

He leans into me and I meet him halfway, joining our foreheads together, never tearing away from our gaze.

In this beautiful moment, I forget all that plagued me for the last days, losing myself in his eyes, his lips, his warmth, his everything.

He was right, I know how I feel, though I am still unsure whether it rings true.

I suppose there is only one way to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yei! We have a kiss! Everybody remain calm!
> 
> Give you three guesses what business Thrandy boy and Thror are up to.
> 
> And we have another appearance for the company as well as little Dís.
> 
> I really hope this was worth your wait, I really appreciate you guys, I live for your comments.
> 
> Don't be afraid to speak your mind, comment below, leave kudos, do as you will.
> 
> Lov U! <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Ok, I’m having problems with my laptop, yes I have to get it fixed I know.
> 
> So I am writing this on my phone :,)
> 
> Fair warning, there might be more than one grammar error here, I hope not, but at times I don’t see my mistakes when I write, so Grammarly is a savior for it.
> 
> Anywho, enjoy this chapter!

**_ T.A. 2,941.Mirkwood. _ **

That was... a disaster.

Brilliant.

But a disaster.

Yes, we got the company out and yes, we are "out of the woods" so to speak.

However, there were situations we absolutely would've been happy without.

In the few moons Bilbo had hidden away in my quarters, we managed to cook up an acceptable plan to free his company.

Which I was reluctant at first, for as much as Thorin wishes to deny, it is plain as water what these dwarves are up to.

And it is something I do not agree with for one too many reasons.

One of which breathes fire.

I plead my case to the hobbit, and although he was painfully aware of what laid ahead, he was determined to help reclaim their home.

"They owe you nothing, Master Baggins, why would you place your life at risk?" I had asked, truly curious about his purpose.

"I have a smial, back in the Shire," he said "I place I feel safe in, where I feel at home, where I read my books on my armchair, tend to my garden or a puff of Old Toby.

They don't have a home, they have a roof over their heads".

I admit I was perplexed as well as moved by his words, and though I was still hesitant, I agreed to assist.

He wished to do it as soon as possible, for their time was counted.

I wanted to agree but after my face off with my father, I knew I could not do too much activity that would not be labelled as suspicious.

And, we needed as much advantage over the Elf king as we could get.

I proposed we waited until the early morning after the Feast of Starlight.

For whereas we wood-elves do love our wine, it would not render us entirely useless if the case called for it.

We are, however, not immune to the... aftereffects.

It does not last long, but it would have to be long enough for us to free them.

And I made sure of it, for I may or may have not made up a concoction of all sleeping and anaesthetic herbs possible along with a tad of the river water and smeared it into as many goblets as I could.

I am no healer, but I do know a thing or two about herbs and potions, and Bilbo is a walking encyclopedia for plants.

It paid off almost to perfection.

Whilst Bilbo freed the dwarves, I tried to appear inconspicuous to the eyes of my shadow.

Everything was going according to plan flawlessly.

Tauriel calls for us to notify us the dwarves were gone, and if my timing was right, they should be passing the gate just about now.

And it would be too late for us to reach them.

Except, of course, they apparently were not.

The horn was blown and the gates closed right on their faces.

They would be captured, again, and if it had been difficult to release them before, it would be near impossible now.

And I wish that had been the worst of it.

I had steeled myself for recapture when the first arrow struck.

And for a moment I saw nothing but my blades severing deformed heads.

The moment came and went when I heard the familiar creaking of the metal gates and saw the dwarves heads dropping down into the rapids.

And I basically flew down with them at the sides, for as tough as they could be, they were unarmed.

Everything became a blur, I vaguely remember running down the hill killing anything I could with my sword whilst keeping an eye on the company.

A daring orc lunging at a dwarrow.

Diving down to the depths of the freezing water.

A helping hand bringing me back to the surface and clinging to the side of a barrel.

Looking up to connect my eyes with my mirrored resigned ones, and me looking back, an apology on my tongue.

Then it was over, though the rapids continued to rock us from side to side.

It was another while until the river finally calmed and I let go of the edge of the barrel in favour of swimming to the shore.

Once I did I plopped down on the rocky and certainly not comfortable ground, but I am too drained to care.

And it seems the rest of the company as well if their panting and heavy thuds on the ground was any indication.

"Princess!" Bilbos' voice brings me back to the present.

I had not realized my eyes had closed until the late morning sky flashed in my sight.

I pushed up to rest on my elbows just as Bilbo crouches beside me, concern shining in his baby blues.

"Are you alright?".

"Positively fine Master Baggins" I answer, taking inventory of any anomaly present in my body.

The only ache to be found comes from my fingers, most likely from the tight grip on the edge of the barrel.

After he is reassured of my safety, he helps me to my feet as much as he can considering his tinier size, then his eyes took a more stern glint.

"What were you thinking?" he pronounces his words as if I were a child in need of scolding, which I am strangely fond of coming from such a tiny creature.

I arc a brow as I open my mouth to protest, only for a familiar gravelly voice to speak first.

"What was the elf thinking indeed" the ever glowering Dwalin throws axes with his stare, posture intimidating as he crosses his arms.

I can't help the tiny smirk at the former Captain of the Guard "Iston i nîf gîn". (I know your face)

My smirk grows as his face darkens, the fact that Master Dwalin abhors whenever I spoke my language has stuck to me too much.

"It's good to see you again, Master Dwalin" he growls in response.

"Princess! You truly are a sight for sore eyes" a merry voice rings next to me, leading me to a very familiar friendly red-head.

I smile softly at Nori "Master Thief, always a pleasure".

"The pleasure is all mine, my Lady" he exaggerates a bow, bending completely.

I snicker.

Then a tiny hand waves over my face, prompting me to look back at an expectant looking hobbit.

"I am aware I was not meant to come, but-" I say, rolling my eyes.

"Bloody right," he interrupts "We agreed it was too risky for you to come".

"And for us," exclaims Thorin, shouldering his way to me "you realize the ill you have brought upon us by coming?".

"When Thranduil is made aware of your absence, do you not think he will send for you?" he hisses, tone scolding.

"We best get moving then" I challenge "That is unless you wish for Thranduil to catch up".

His frown deepens, a scowl hidden beneath his moustache.

I go to turn away from him in an attempt to lead by example when Balin steps up to ask.

"And how do you suppose we do that?".

I feel slightly taken aback at the obvious question.

That is left unanswered though, as in a split second I notice a presence close to us.

And before anyone can move a knife of mine flies through the air to pass a hair away of the startled face of a man, bow and arrow at the ready.

I narrow my eyes, brandishing my dagger at him "I wouldn't try it if I were you unless you have a death wish".

Granted, the threat is a tad unnecessary but no less true.

I would've expected a flash of fear or indignation from the man, yet I am thoroughly surprised to see him simply raise his brows as if impressed.

After lowering the bow and putting away the arrow he raises both his hands placatingly.

"Apologies my Lady," he says, his expression rather blank other than a strange glint in his eye "I swear I mean you no harm".

I stay still for a moment, studying him.

He looks to be of a humble upbringing,

Tangles dark hair just over his shoulders half brought up to keep out of the way, sporting a soul patch with a moustache, a few silver streaks signalling the passage of time.

I sheath my dagger at my lower back "You're from Laketown, correct?".

"Indeed I am, my Lady" he confirms, hands falling to his sides.

My head tilts to look past him to find a barge, the wood is old and mold runs along the bow.

I look back at the former scribe, conveying an idea to him, to which he smirks conspirationally and nods.

I turn back to the man, finding him looking inquisitively at the company behind me, a frown wrinkling between his brows.

"That barge," I bring his attention back to me "would it be available for hire, by any chance?".

He looks at me strangely, as if debating whether he should risk it or not.

He stares back at the company "A halfling, thirteen dwarves and a she-elf? Strange gathering isn't it?".

"I can't see how that is any of your concern" I reply sharply.

"I would like to know who you are" he challenges right back.

I step close to him "Merchants from the Iron Hills, good sir, I am their escort, offering safe passage through our lands".

"Really? And I assume you'll be passing through Lake-Town" he states.

"We need food," cuts in Thorin "supplies, weapons".

I turn to the tall dwarf, but he avoids my eye "Can you help us?".

"Why do you think I should help you?".

"You will be paid handsomely for it, my lord, not to mention you'd be in the King's good graces" I cut in.

He eyes me over "Really? Does being in the King's god graces mean 'banished' to you?".

I am slightly taken aback "How do you mean?".

"If the state of those barrels tells me anything, is that whatever business happened with your kin, I don't think it ended well" he nods toward said barrels, smiling mockingly.

Bastard.

"No one enters Lake-Town but by leave of the Master, all his wealth comes from trading with the Woodland Realm" he explains "He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil".

That brings forth an idea "I agree wholeheartedly, my lord" I can feel the glares of the company burning holes to the back of my head.

"However," I shake my head as if conflicted "it is not my place to tell you, but I was commissioned by the Princess herself".

The man frowns at that "The Princess?".

"Indeed" I get closer to his space "And you may be quite familiar with the King's wrath, but I advise you not to summon hers".

His eyes flicker to the side, debating with himself, so I push further.

"I'd wager there must be a way to enter that town unseen" I persuade, "For which I am certain the Princess would pay double the price".

He hums "And how can I trust the Princess shall keep her promise?"

I knew full well what he was suggesting, but it comes to mind the fact that I did not bring any gold.

I resist the urge to slap my head at my stupidity.

"I believe we can vouch for it" calls Balin, I turn perplexed as he shakes a jingling bag.

A slow, impressed, smile grows on my face.

^v^v^v

Once the barrels are loaded, and the company on board, we set sail into the dark, half-frozen waters.

The fog surrounds us like a blanket, even I have to squint to see.

A strange feeling blooms in my heart when I try to picture the beautiful sight of the lake under the summer sun, for although the water has always been dark, it has never looked as sinister as it does now, raising goosebumps at my neck.

In a sense, it's almost foreboding, like we were blind to the sight ahead, yet we cannot stop our course. 

I explore our surroundings as the man manoeuvres the barge around what look to be ruins.

Ruins of what Esgaroth used to be.

Then again, I suppose the dragon truly burned everything in its path, some even without touching.

"What are you trying to do?" Thorin growls "Drown us?".

I give him a look, which he pointedly ignores.

"I was born and bred in this waters Master Dwarf," the man responds "If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here".

The dwarf scoffs.

"You could be a little nicer, you know" I whisper to him.

He answers with a glare, which I return, though perhaps not as heatedly.

He breaks contact first though, turning away.

"Are you upset with me?" I sigh.

No answer.

I press my lips together, sagging in disappointment, for I thought we had made a real breakthrough.

Or that at least he would not give me the cold shoulder anymore.

I want to yell to his face 'What did I do wrong this time?!' or 'Why won't you talk to me?!' but I held my tongue.

This is not the time.

I look back to the kind man, who is dutifully steering away.

I find myself feeling curious about him, I find him to be a kind man, for not many, would risk their very livelihood for strangers.

I suppose desperation causes you to take drastic measures.

"You never did tell me your name, my lord" I comment, leaning against the edge of the barge, right behind him.

He glances momentarily at me "You never asked".

"I am asking now".

"Bard" he answers after a moment "the name's Bard, and I am no lord, my Lady".

"Bard" I test his name over my tongue "Not a lord, yet I feel you must be a man of the people ".

"We help each other however we can, my Lady, nothing special in it" he retorts, voice carefully neutral.

Though I'd have to be a fool not to see how much he cares.

"I see" I mutter, it has been a while since I have seen Esgaroth, I can only imagine what it has been reduced to.

"What do they call you?" He suddenly asks.

I look away for a moment, unsure of how to answer.

I don't think it wise to give my name, even though it has been decades since last I've come.

I watch Thorin as he speaks with his companions as if he held all the answers.

Maybe he does.

Seeing him again brings memories of old when nothing was complicated, and it was only him and I.

He has changed and grown so much, seen a lot more in a century than I have in my long immortal life. 

I have suffered losses, and have seen the empty eyes of soldiers coming back from it.

But I have never experienced war, nor looked into the dulled eyes of my friends, faces pale and cold.

Or been thrust the responsibility of a whole nation in the blink of an eye, before you came of age.

I truly admire him, and I wish even more I could've been there for him.

"My Lady?" speaks Bard, frown in place.

I smile apologetically, noticing I've spaced out too long.

I shake my head as if that would dispel my thoughts "Forgive me, I...".

He waves a hand in a 'no harm done' gesture then looks at Thorin, his brows furrowed thoughtfully.

"I know what it's like for someone to occupy your thoughts".

I furrow my brows "How do you mean?".

"I know that look, my Lady" he smirks suggestively "The look of longing".

Thank the Valar for the cold, at least that could cover the pink hue colouring my cheeks.

"Don't you worry, your secret's save with me".

I laugh nervously "Well, I'm afraid it's not truly a secret, my lord".

"Oh? Old love?".

My heart skips a beat at the word, but I do not show it "Define old".

"Old" he emphasises "Before I was born old".

An incredulous laugh bubble up to my stomach, his lips barely twitch upward as if he wished to smile but stops himself.

"You are completely right, my lord" I chuckle.

"Bard" he insists "I have no lands, or a kingdom, I am but a simple man".

I give him a gentle smile, that same unidentifiable feeling spreading through my heart.

"Canneth" I mutter.

"I'm sorry?".

"You may call me Canneth" I reaffirm, smile still in place.

He returns it, though still not fully.

He looks past me, up to the sky, causing me to turn as well.

I must've swallowed butterflies, for I feel them tickle my belly as I gaze upon the looming peak across the fog, the cloud opening like a window.

The first time I saw the mountain in the distance I felt bubbling excitement, like when opening a bottle of wine after shaking it, just threatening to burst.

Now, all I feel is cold and terrifying dread.

Ironic, if you think of what lies at the end of this quest.

"Give me the money" Bard's sudden demand, bringing my attention to the other side of the boat, extending his hand to the dwarves.

"We'll give it to you once we reach town" growls Thorin.

"Believe me, I would not be asking if it wasn't necessary" he looks up "There are guards ahead".

I look up to the upcoming buildings emerging from the fog.

And it comes to the realization that I did not think how in the Valar were we going to smuggle in, thirteen dwarves, a halfling and an elleth.

And the Princess of the Woodland Realm at that!

Not that they would know, but it does not worry me any less.

^v^v^v

**_ T.A. 2,941.Esgaroth.  _ **

I'm not certain whether to be impressed or aghast.

I looked at the dwarf-and-fish filled barrels with pity, glad I did not have to in their place.

I would've paid to see their faces, though.

"Put this on, my Lady," says Bard beneath his breath, handing me a bundle of wool clothes.

The fabric is rough and it is more than likely to be scratchy, the colours faded from use.

"Why do I need this?"

"Being an elf may bring you privileges," he explains "if we wish to smuggle you in, however, best to keep a low profile".

I sigh, observing the clothes.

Then a specific item catches my attention though, and I hold it up to his face.

"What on Arda is this?" I question, holding the bell shape piece of fabric.

"That, my Lady, would be a wool cap" he points out as if it was obvious.

"A cap?" I turn it this way and that, inspecting it "what for?".

"For your head" he replies flatly.

I glare at his smug face, wanting to punch it away.

He chuckles "To cover your ears, my Lady".

I release a forceful exhale, resigned to my fate.

I remove my outer layers, leaving me in corset, tunic and formfitting pants.

To his credit, he does not look over once as I change, even if I am not going completely naked.

Finally, I put on the woollen dress, falling to my calves, then downing a large coat over it and fingerless gloves.

I look at the cap in my hands scornful.

"Please, you're not dying" mocks the man.

"Then you may wear the cap" I offer with a much too innocent tone.

"Please, I think it'll look better on you" he replies copying my mannerism.

I roll my eyes, putting on the cap a tad more forceful than necessary, though glad I put my hair in a braid and underneath the coat.

One may put me in layer upon layers of clothes that have seen better days, but my face let alone my hair does not look human.

As we approach the toll gate my chest tightens in apprehension, and I bite my lip.

One of the barrels makes an unintelligible sound which Bard kicks to quiet them.

"So, what is my story here?" I ask, my pitch slightly higher.

Bard does not react to my question like I hadn't spoken at all.

"Bard" I call his name.

"Follow my lead, and don't speak unless spoken to" is all he gives me when suddenly, the gate was opening and we entered Laketown.

I press my lips to a thin line so as not to speak as Bard makes small talk with the Gatekeeper and my shoulders un tense the slightest bit as it all shows to be going our way.

Until a bloody snake appeared on our path.

It had taken all my willpower to allow Bard to speak instead of drowning the man, and my temperament has been tested not once by worse.

I mean, the nerve of him, was it necessary to bring the whole bloody guard?!

"Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm" he reads, then waves over said barrels "Only, they're not empty".

I look at Bard, as the hunchback waves a fish in his face, while he seems completely at ease, his closed fists and back taut as a bowstring betrays him.

This is most likely not the first time he's had to deal with the man.

I bite my tongue,trying to become a shadow of this bleak town.

"That's none of your business" bites the bargeman.

The hunchback smirks "No, it's the Master's business which makes it my business".

"Oh come out Alfrid, people need to eat!" Bard exclaims.

This 'Alfrid' seems so full of it that he deems the fish illegal and orders them to be dumped over the side.

My heart stops as I watch the men board the barge and grab over the barrels.

I couldn't help what I did next.

"Wait!" everyone in the boat, safe Bard, look toward me for the first time, blinking as if I was an illusion.

I turn to the pale man, who frowns probably debating if I was real.

"Please, my lord" I take the most innocent tone I possess "Tis my fault, you see this are my fish".

Bard has gone rigid as I come beside him, glancing at me from the corner of his eye as if to say 'What the bloody hell are you thinking?!'

I probably should ask the same.

"Yours?" Alfrid arcs a skeptical brow.

"Yes, sire" I can literally see his ego grow as I use the title he more than likely does not have "And I realize my mistake in not asking in advance, but my father thought perhaps it could be considered a gift to the people and the Master of Laketown,

For we have heard of the Masters kindness, and we thought it fit to bring this for free".

I shoot a fleeting stare to Bard, who says nothing, though I think I can hear his pumping heart from here, or perhaps that's mine.

Though the snake keeps eyeing me with an appreciative stare, almost making me gag, he hesitates.

I give a last push "I'm sure the Masters most loyal servant is just as kind to it's people, one can't deny the amount of love one has for him".

I go for the kill as I give the most pretty smile and bat my long lashes "Will you accept my most precious gift, my lord?".

It takes everything in me not to grimace as he takes my offer a bit too kindly, accepting with a messy kiss to my knuckles and the worst bow in all of Arda.

Then he turns to Bard "Such generosity, ey Bard?" Then his expression darkens.

"Perhaps you could learn a thing or two" he sneers then steps right to his face, murmuring "You were lucky the lady had your back bargeman, don't count on it next time though".

The snake then retreats and flashes me a toothy grin, which I barely manage to return.

The gatekeeper then orders for the gate to be raised, and I can almost finally breathe as we grow further away.

But of course, Alfrid had to have the last word.

"The Master has his eye on you, bargeman, you'd do well to remember!" He warns darkly "we know where you live".

Good thing he's facing my back by now, I doubt I could hide my annoyance any longer.

"It's a small town, Alfrid, everyone knows where everyone lives" replies Bard casually so.

Once he made sure to be out of earshot he whispered to me "Have you gone mad?"

"I am afraid I know not what you speak of".

"You know exactly what I speak of, it is bad enough the Master wants my head, would you like to get to line?"

"He would not dare lay so much as a finger on me" I mutter.

"You think yourself untouchable? You may be an elf, but you are outcast, what do you think he'd do when he finds out?" he whispers to my ear, making me go rigid.

Somehow, those few words shake me to my core, my veins turn to ice and air becomes scarce.

"You think yourself untouchable?"

It punched me how much privilege I've had in my status, the silk sheets and food ready once I wake up, then my heart breaks as I watch this poor people struggle for at least a bite to eat and wade off the cold to live another day.

How privileged to the fact that no one dare touch me as Princess, being above others.

Yet as I am now, disguised as nothing but another human being, I'm not worth more than a few coins of gold.

I gulp, guilt knotting in my throat for thinking my life is worth more then theirs, and a question rises from the shadowed edges of my mind.

Am I truly any different from my father?

I say nothing as we dock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that as quite the ride, jaja get it?
> 
> Bad joke? Okay.
> 
> Alrighty then, hope you enjoyed if you have questions, comments or concerns please leave a comment down below.
> 
> And if you like the story leave kudos :)
> 
> Lov u all! See you soon <3


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